Never Say Never: The Frenzied Fate
by TheWriter51
Summary: Pt.6-The Baudelaires and Jane might as well be strangers as they head to the last safe place of V.F.D. With Thursday looming in the near future, the world seems darker than ever before as they try to decide who they can trust while they can barely trust each other. Will Jane and the Baudelaires survive the perils of the world or will the force of destiny turn them into monsters?
1. Ride

**Welcome to Part 6 of my story Never Say Never! This one includes TPP through The End and the events after of course! **

**ENJOY! And R&R as always! :)**

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**Chapter One: Ride**

_**Jamie Murray**_

The waves crashed onto the shore, their icy depths seeming as foreboding and dark as the elevator shaft at 667 Dark Avenue. The dark clouds hovered above my head, without even the slightest crack as if a dense haze of smoke had occupied the sky. I sat down on a rock nearby and grasped a handful of sand, letting it fall back to the ground like rain. I stared hard at the glossy surface as if expecting to see a monster reflected there, but only spotting a distressed, lonely, young girl gazing back at me with years of grief echoed within her eyes.

I picked up a stone from the sandy ground and turned it in my hands, feeling the cool, rough surface. Finally, I curled my hand around the stone and then hauled it angrily at that girl. The stone plunged into the water where I had aimed it, and the reflection seemed to shatter like my heart had not too long ago.

I sighed heavily and closed my eyes, trying desperately not to think. But that was impossible when there was so much going on. I held on tighter to the turquoise notebook in my hands, seeming heavier than before.

"Jamie, darling!" a voice called. And I slowly turned to see Esmé Squalor approaching me, beaming. "My boyfriend just told me that you're one of us now. Isn't that just smashing?! I always knew you'd come around."

"She's still a cakesniffer," Carmelita said, scowling at me.

"Now it's like you're both the daughters that I never had," Esmé cried as she patted the top of my head. "I'm going to buy you all sorts of fabulous outfits too! They'll look even better than that carnival dress you wore at Caligari Carnival."

I shuddered, remembering that awful dress that made me feel like I was wearing a box. And then of course, it had a merry-go-round as the skirt. It made me uneasy to think about the kinds of outfits Esmé would force me to wear this time. But I had to remember that I wasn't _that_ person anymore. I was on Esmé's side now and I honestly did want her to like me. So what if I had to wear some strange dress to accomplish that?

"Thank you Esmé," I said. "I'd be glad to wear all of those fashionable outfits."

Carmelita frowned at me. "But Esmé," she whined, "I want all the fashionable outfits to myself. Jane is a cakesniffer."

"Now, Carmelita," Olaf said, as he strode over to us. He had been overjoyed when I agreed to join him and as my first attempt at being villainous, I told him that the Baudelaires were headed to Briny Beach. I would have felt bad about doing that, but I was already aware that my decision meant that any ties with the Baudelaires had to be severed. In fact, I was debating whether I should toss my notebook into the sea. Maybe then I would be free. But I only gripped it in my hands, uncertain about whether I should keep it, "if Blondie wants a fashionable outfit, she can have one. So long as she keeps to her word about whose side she's on."

"That's true," Esmé said, her smile fading, "Abigail could never decide which side she was on."

"So if you're really going to join us," Olaf said. "You have to prove it. If I see you do any goody-good stuff, it's back to being an orphan prisoner, understand? And this doesn't count. The Baudelaires aren't even here."

I nodded. "I made my decision," I said, "It's not like I have anywhere else to go. That's what I was thinking, Esmé. I thought that if you were my family, then maybe this is where I ought to be."

Esmé's smile reappeared as quickly as it faded. "Excellent!" she cried and patted my head again. "Abigail would have wanted you to be on our side."

"Now, let's get out of here," Olaf said, "Hooky and Triangle Eyes may have stolen my submarine and my recruits, but we still have to return to Hotel Denouement for my latest scheme. I'll go get us some cabs. Wait here."

Olaf went off in the direction of the busy road and I stayed with Esmé and Carmelita. Carmelita wouldn't stop scowling at me and I knew she was jealous that I was getting some attention by Esmé too.

The last time someone paid so much attention to me, Carmelita kidnapped the kid and held him hostage until he called me a cakesniffer. That was Charlie M. Kornbluth who had been one of the recruited children on the_ Carmelita._

"I still think Jane is a cakesniffer," Carmelita said. "I don't care whose side she's on."

"For the last time, my name is Jamie," I said, "you don't have to call me Jane anymore."

The Baudelaires called me Jane. Now that we were no longer friends, I had to move on. Besides, I didn't mind the name Jamie. Perhaps it was time I stop hiding from the truth. I couldn't be Jane forever. Having a different name wouldn't change who I was. I was still Count Olaf's henchwoman. So I was Jamie Faith Murray now.

"Jane isn't a very in name," Esmé said, "but Jamie is much more fashionable. Thank goodness Abigail was thinking clearly when she named you."

A taxi pulled over and I followed Esmé and Carmelita over to the automobile.

"You and Carmelita will ride in this cab," Olaf said to Esmé. Then he looked at me. "As for you, Blondie, you're riding with me."

I nodded. Esmé and Carmelita got into the first taxi.

As Carmelita started to get in, she turned to face me with a snicker. "Ha ha!" she teased. "Jamie has to ride with Countie!"

Count Olaf reached out and slammed the door closed, almost hitting Carmelita in the face. The taxi driver steered the cab away to Hotel Denouement.

"At least she got my name right," I muttered, more to myself.

Then Count Olaf waved another taxi over.

"Get in," Olaf ordered, opening the back door.

I looked up at my new boss, out at the murky waters of Briny Beach, and then back down at my notebook. It was all I had left of the person I once was. With a sigh, I stuck it in my pocket and scrambled inside the cab. The seats were leather and molded in from all the passengers who had been inside before us. Count Olaf got in after me and started giving orders to the taxi driver.

"Take us to Hotel Denouement at once," he said, "and you'd better hurry. I'm very busy."

"Yes, sir," the man sitting in the drivers' seat replied. He adjusted the rear-view mirror and pulled the car onto the road. I noticed he was wearing a wide-brimmed hat.

I resorted to staring gloomily out of my window as the cab passed the packed streets of all sorts of people.

"Now, listen you," Olaf said, grabbing my attention away from the scenery. "Just because you've joined me doesn't mean I won't be keeping an eye on you. Now that you're my associate, you'll do whatever I say the moment I say it. I won't be very forgiving if you wind up foiling my plans again, is that clear?"

"Yes," I said.

Olaf suddenly looked at the cab driver. "What are you looking at, you idiot," Olaf growled. "Keep your eyes on the road, not on me or my associates. It's rude to eavesdrop."

The cab driver nodded and adjusted the rear view mirror again.

"Now where were we, Blondie," Olaf started.

"You were telling me not to foil your plans," I said.

"Ah, yes," he said, "And another thing, while we're at our destination, if anyone you don't know asks you who you are, you tell them you're Jane Rumary. No one can know who you _really_ are unless you're asking for a death sentence, got it? Not even being an associate of mine will guarantee your safety from the rest of the world."

"Yes," I said.

"I mean it," Olaf said, "in fact, do not trust orders from anyone but myself, Esmé, the freaks, Carmelita, or Ernest Denouement."

"Alright but there's no way I'm taking orders from Carmelita," I said, "If I wanted to do that, I would have joined as Carmelita's butler."

"Fine," Count Olaf said.

"Tell me right away if you see anything suspicious," Olaf continued. "Including if you see the Baudebrats. Remember, they're not your friends, Blondie. But I shouldn't have to worry too much. When you're not with me, you'll be with Esmé and Carmelita or the other people I mentioned you could trust." He grinned slyly. "You see, you'll never be alone if you're working for me."

"That's good to know," I said. "So are you going to explain to me what the sugar bowl is?" I couldn't help asking. "If I'm going to help, I should at least know what's inside it."

"I'll decide what you should and shouldn't know," Olaf growled. "I'm your boss now."

I nodded silently. Count Olaf reached out a scraggly hand and put it on the top of my head.

"Do what I say," he said, "and you'll make a great henchwoman. Just like your mother. She would be proud to see you taking on the mission we began so many years ago. In a few days I'll triumph! Ha!"

Count Olaf had recently changed his laugh after the other one he said wasted too much time and almost caused that submarine shaped like a question mark to come after us. At least it wasn't as long but that didn't stop it from being annoying.

"Ho ho ho," I forced myself to laugh, trying to play along. I hoped it didn't sound too forced.

"You're not Santa Clause," Olaf growled. "You have a lot to learn about what it takes to be my associate. But you're in luck because I'll be glad to teach you! Ha! You'll learn how to set fires and how to shoot a gun and all sorts of villainous things."

"I can't wait," I said. I was suddenly glad that I was good at acting. Every time I made a comment, I got this uneasy feeling in my gut. I just had to keep reminding myself of who I was now. This was the life I had chosen. It was my destiny.

"That's the spirit, Blondie!" Olaf said, excitedly. "If only Carmelita could be as eager as you."

"If only," I muttered under my breath and turned to stare out the window at the city. I saw places where I had been before any of this happened. There was the clothing store where Mrs. Poe took me when she wanted to shop for that itchy clothing. I saw the market in which I had purchased that roast beef with the money Monty Kensicle lent me the first day we officially met. I knew if the cab driver took us a little farther out, we would be near the place in which Monty Kensicle had used as his home while the Quagmires and I helped him gather information for the books he was writing. We passed the street where the Rhetoric building was, in which, I learned who Monty Kensicle truly was. It seemed that we all had some sort of secret identity. I could spot a tall, shiny building I recognized as 667 Dark Avenue in which I had met Esmé and Jerome Squalor for the first time. I shuddered, recalling the time when I had been trapped in that cage at the bottom of the elevator shaft. And I also saw the bookstore where Klaus had shown me the special alcove in which he used to read with his father.

I closed my eyes, wishing I could go back to that moment—that peaceful moment before Gunther showed up and ruined our lives again. I should have said something more to Klaus on that day. I should have told him how I felt. I should have run away with the Baudelaires instead of attending the meeting with Esmé and Gunther. I could have avoided being in Count Olaf's clutches again and being locked in that cage. I wouldn't have been sold at the In Auction and I wouldn't have been caught in Count Olaf's tower. Maybe then I would never have met Jacques Snicket or watched him die before my eyes. Perhaps I would never have gone to Heimlich Hospital to discover my true identity. The bald man wouldn't have been able to hurt me and I wouldn't have had to watch him be devoured by those lions—I still had nightmares about it all—Perhaps Count Olaf never would have found out that the Baudelaires were disguised as freaks, and I never would have had to attempt to push Madame Lulu into the lion pit. Klaus never would have found a reason to hate me and maybe I could still be a good person. Maybe I could have been going to the last safe place of V.F.D. to save it rather than to destroy it. Fate had led me here and guided me to become a murderous villain.

"We're almost at the hotel," Count Olaf said, growing excited again and snapping me out of my reverie. "We're so close to success, I can almost taste it! Ha! Aren't you excited?"

"I sure am," I lied. "Thursday will be the greatest day of my life."

He smiled wickedly. "I'll destroy V.F.D. and then I'll get the Baudebrats," he said, "I'll have my associates on the look out for those brats. When I do have them in my clutches, I'll make sure they'll never escape. And I'll give you the first say in which one dies first. But I'm sure I already know the answer to that."

I nodded and felt myself biting my lip as my stomach churned again. "Whatever you say, boss," I said.

The cab pulled over at the Hotel Denouement's entrance and I gazed up at the strange building before me. I had been here before, of course, but it felt different for some reason. After all, a lot had changed since my last visit here. Then again, perhaps it wasn't the hotel that had made that change.

The cab driver pressed down on the brakes and Olaf began to get out of the car. The cab driver adjusted his mirror again and I could sort of see his face now. The man had sandy hair underneath the hat that covered his eyes. Despite trying to conceal his identity, I immediately recognized him. My eyes widened in horror as Monty Kensicle or Lemony Snicket stared back at me through the rearview mirror.

"What are you staring at Blondie?" Olaf growled and grabbed my arm to pull me out after him. I tried to make out the expression on Monty's face as I was dragged out. I knew mine must have been one of dread if I had allowed myself to show it. Of all people, now Monty Kensicle knew who I've become—about the kind of person I was destined to be.

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_**Klaus Baudelaire**_

The cab moved throughout the city in which my siblings and I had once lived. The driver, a woman we hardly knew, Kit Snicket, turned the car this way and that as we gazed glumly out our windows. I was glad to see the city hadn't changed much from when our home had been destroyed, months ago. Since the day our home burned down, our lives have been nothing but a whirlwind of chaos that would forever change the path of our lives. I saw the market where Violet, Sunny, and I had purchased the ingredients we needed to make dinner for Count Olaf when he was our guardian. It still looked the same as it had then. I could also see the building, 667 Dark Avenue towering overhead. I shuddered remembering how Jane had been taken from us by Gunther and how we had found that mysterious passageway that led to our home. I also saw the bookstore in which my father and I used to go to read. I remembered that special spot we had, the place where Jane and I had sat only a few months ago. I wished I could go back to that moment and tell Jane how I felt. I wished she hadn't gone and done something so wicked. It made me hate her because I really had liked Jane. But it didn't matter now. We were strangers now. When I saw her at the hotel, I would pretend not to know her.

"You must have thousands of questions, Baudelaires," said Kit Snicket, rotating the steering wheel with her white-gloved hands. The taxi turned sharply through a metal gate and continued down a windy, narrow street lined with shrubbery. "I wish we had more time to talk, but it's already Tuesday. As it is you scarcely have time to eat your important brunch before getting into your concierge disguises and beginning your observations as flaneurs."

"Concierge?" Violet asked.

"Flaneurs?" I asked.

"Brunch?" Sunny asked.

A smile drew up on Kit's lips and the taxi made another sharp turn, causing a couple of poetry books to fall from the passenger seat to the floor of the car. I noticed the books were, _The Walrus and the Carpenter, and Other Poems _by Lewis Carroll, and _The Waste Land by _T S. Eliot. While we were on board the Queequeg, we had received a coded message in the poetry of Lewis Carroll and T.S. Eliot. Both had helped us find our way here, yet, we were still just as confused as before. "A great man once said that right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant. Do you understand what that means?"

My sisters looked at me, in expectation. "I think so," I said. "He thinks that good people are more powerful than evil people, even if evil people appear to be winning. Is he a member of V.F.D.?"

"You might say that," Kit said. "Certainly his message applies to our current situation. As you know, our organization split apart some time ago, with much bitterness on both sides."

"The schism," Violet said.

"Yes," Kit agreed with a sigh. "The schism. V.F.D. was once a united group of volunteers, trying to extinguish fires-both literally and figuratively. But now there are two groups of bitter enemies. Some of us continue to extinguish fires, but others have turned to much less noble schemes."

"Olaf," Sunny said.

"Count Olaf is one of our enemies," Kit agreed, looking at her rearview mirror with a frown, "but there are many, many more who are equally wicked, or perhaps even more so. If I'm not mistaken, you met two of them in the mountains—a man with a beard, but no hair, and a woman with hair, but no beard. There are plenty more, with all sorts of hairstyles and facial ornaments. A long time ago, of course, you could spot members of V.F.D. by the tattoos on their ankles. But now there are so many wicked people it is impossible to keep track of all our enemies—and all the while they are keeping track of us. In fact, we may have some enemies behind us at this very moment."

I turned to look out the back window of the cab and there was another behind us. The windows of the cab were tinted and prevented us from seeing anything.

"Why do you think there are enemies in that taxi?" Violet asked.

"A taxi will pick up anyone who signals for one," Kit said. "There are countless wicked people in the world, so it follows that sooner or later a taxi will pick up a wicked person."

"Or a noble one," Klaus pointed out. "Our parents took a taxi to the opera one evening when their car wouldn't start."

"I remember that evening well," Kit replied with a faint smile. "It was a performance of _La Forza del Destino. _Your mother was wearing a red shawl, with long feathers along the edges.

During intermission I followed them to the snack bar and slipped them a box of poison darts before Esme Squalor could catch me. It was difficult, but as one of my comrades likes to say, 'To be daunted by no difficulty; to keep heart when all have lost it; to go through intrigue spotless; to forgo even ambition when the end is gained—who can say this is not greatness?' And speaking of greatness, please hold on. We can't allow a potential enemy to follow us to our important brunch."

Kit gripped the steering wheel tightly in her gloved hands and turned it sharply so that it spun off the road. My head was spinning as the car swerved into the thick, verdant shrubbery on the side of the road. The car continued to spin so I could see nothing but a green blur as the car forced its way through the shrubbery and the branches which scraped the sides of the car. I was relieved that I was wearing my seat belt and all at once, the taxi came to a halt and my head stopped spinning. I was still a bit shaky and dizzy from the reckless driving but we were safe. I could see we were on a sloping lawn.

Kit turned off the engine and sighed heavily as she rested her head against the steering wheel.

"I probably shouldn't do that," she said, "in my condition."

"Condition?" Sunny asked.

Kit raised her head and turned to look at us for the first time. Her face was kind, though the lines on her forehead told us that she was distressed and she looked exhausted. Two pencils were stuck into her long, messy hair at odd angles. The coat she wore was black and very formal looking. It was buttoned up to her chin and a wilted flower was tucked into the lapel.

"I'm distraught," Kit said before opening the car door. She sighed again. "That's my condition. I'm distraught, and I'm pregnant." Kit removed her seatbelt and stepped out onto the lawn, and I could see that she truly was pregnant, since the coat showed her definite curve. I understood and was surprised to see how much strain she was putting herself in while pregnant.

When my mother was pregnant with Sunny, she had spent the majority of the time relaxing while our father took care of her by serving her food or adjusting her pillows. Sometimes he would play one of her favorite songs and she would dance awkwardly, making silly faces at Violet and I as we watched from the doorway. Though I knew my mother never did anything as dangerous as spinning a cab through shrubbery. I felt bad that Kit was forced to put herself through so much strain while pregnant.

"Gather all of your things, Baudelaires," Kit said, "and if you don't mind, I'm going to ask you to carry my things, too—just some books and papers in the front seat. One should never leave any belongings in a taxi, because you can never be sure if you'll see them again. Please be quick about it. Our enemies are likely to turn their taxi around and find us."

Kit headed down the sloping lawn while I exchanged bewildered glances with my sisters.

"When we arrived at Briny Beach," Violet said, "and saw the taxi waiting for us, just like the message said, I thought we were finally going to find answers to all of our questions. But I have more questions now than I ever did."

"Me too," I said. "What does Kit Snicket want with us?"

"What did she mean by concierge disguises?" Violet said.

"What did she mean by observations as flaneurs?" I asked.

"What's so important about brunch?" Violet asked.

"How did she know we met those villains in the mountains?" I asked.

"Where is Quigley Quagmire?" Violet asked.

"Is Melissa Sampson with him?" I asked.

"Trust?" Sunny said quietly, meaning, "Does Kit Snicket seem like a reliable person, and should we follow her?"

I frowned as I contemplated her question. It was difficult to decide whether we should trust Kit Snicket since we only just met her. Afterall, we had put our faith into people before and they failed us.

"In the few minutes we've known her," Violet said, "Kit Snicket has driven a taxicab into a mass of shrubbery. Normally I would be unwilling to trust such a person, but. . ."

"The poster," I said, as Violet trailed off. "I remember it, too. Mother said she purchased it during intermission, as a souvenir. She said it was the most interesting time she'd ever had at the opera, and she never wanted to forget it."

"The poster had a picture of a gun," Violet remembered, "with a trail of smoke forming the words of the title."

Sunny nodded in agreement. _"La Forza del Destino," _she said.

My siblings and I turned to gaze at Kit Snicket who was already a distance away from us, not looking back to see if we were following her. We said no more and gathered some of Kit's belongings, which consisted of the two poetry books and a cardboard folder, overflowing with papers. We followed Kit across the lawn, a faint unknown noise coming from behind the hedges.

I knew that the meaning of _"La forza del destino" _was "the force of destiny." I couldn't be sure what our destiny was at the moment-our lives were as confusing as ever-and I wasn't sure if we were headed down a road full of perils or toward the denouement of our misery. All I could do was trust that Kit wouldn't fail us the way so many other people had.

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**Review! **


	2. In Reverse

**Only one chapter for this weekend but i'll try to update again soon! ENJOY!**

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**Chapter Two: In Reverse**

"Hurry up, Blondie!" Count Olaf growled. "Don't slow me down!"

He practically dragged me from the cab and inside the entrance of Hotel Denouement. I was still in a horrified trance as I was pulled over to where Esmé and Carmelita waited at the elevator. Despite my fear, I was shocked at how crowded the hotel had gotten since we were last here. My eyes moved from face to face, uncertain of who were the volunteers and who were the villains.

I was shoved inside the elevators and Olaf pressed the button to close the doors before anyone else could get on.

"What happened back there?" Count Olaf hissed at me, with wide eyes. "Did you see something?"

"Well I—" I started, trying to come up with a good excuse.

"What is it?" Count Olaf asked, with shiny eyes. "Did you see the Baudelaires?"

"No I just saw…" I hurried to think. "I saw this person driving their car especially recklessly. It scared me that's all."

Olaf frowned. "There's no time to be a coward," Olaf said with a scowl. "We'll never prevail if you're not brave."

"I'll try to work on it," I said, "I'm still new at this."

"Of course," Esmé said, placing a hand on my shoulder, "it can be scary switching sides. But with a new style, you'll be the bravest little girl in the world."

The elevator opened on the seventh floor and Count Olaf stepped off, striding ahead. I followed alongside Esmé and Carmelita who had a mortified look on her face. "But Esmé," she complained again. "I'm the bravest little girl in the whole world."

"I'm sorry, darling," Esmé said, patting her head, "I meant to say that you _both_ are the bravest little girls in the world."

We reached the rooms, 746 and 748.

"In fact," Esmé continued. "I've just had the most smashing idea."

"What is it?" I asked.

Esmé brightened. "I'm going to take you two shopping!" she announced. "We're going to be throwing that in cocktail party soon and we all need to get dresses. Unless you want to go to the party as a tap-dancing ballerina fairy princess veterinarian, Carmelita."

Carmelita frowned. She was still dressed in her ridiculous outfit. "I want to be something different," she said, "I want to be a…a pirate. Yes! And a superhero, a soldier, and a ball player. And a cowboy!"

"You're right, Carmelita," I muttered, "you _are_ pretty brave."

Carmelita scowled at me.

"Now, now, Jamie," Esmé said. I could see she was a little upset that I was teasing Carmelita a bit. "I want you two to get along for now on. No more arguing with each other."

"Fine," I said.

"We can go out and buy you a new outfit, Carmelita, you adorable little girl," Esmé said. "Do you want an outfit like Carmelita's too, Jamie?"

"No thanks," I said, "I think I'll stick with something simple."

"Simple things aren't very fashionable," Esmé said, "but don't worry, I'll find you something that will be fashionable indeed!"

"Can I get a boat?" Carmelita asked.

"Why don't you go now?" Count Olaf suggested. "I have a few things to take care of before tonight. I'm going to go check up with some of our associates. Especially now that we have a new weapon."

I shuddered at the thought that Count Olaf still had the diving helmet in which the Medusoid Mycellium was contained.

"Alright, darling," Esmé said, "we'll be back in the afternoon. Our party guests should be arriving today."

Count Olaf began striding down the hall and we dropped off our luggage in the rooms. I mentally prepared myself for yet another shopping trip. The last time I went on a shopping trip with Esmé, she had acted strangely over hearing a song and then insulted me. I also ended up having to carry all of their bags. I hoped that it would work out better this time. Perhaps I could use it as a way to try and get closer with Esmé.

* * *

"Where exactly are we going?" I asked Esmé as she led Carmelita Spats and I through the busy crowds with swift steps.

"To my favorite store, of course," she explained, "It's only the innest store in the city. Only fashionable people shop there."

"Do we have to move so quickly?" I said.

"If we want to make it in time to get the best stuff," Esmé said, "There's a sale in the shoe department. Buying shoes is one of the most exciting parts about fashion!"

"Can I have anything I want?" Carmelita asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Of course," Esmé said, "as long as it's fashionable."

We reached a large building with multiple display windows. The mannequins were dressed in elaborate outfits and were set in different poses. Esmé grabbed my arm and pulled me inside the doors before I could read the sign. Behind the first set of doors, was another pair of doors, and then we entered one of the biggest rooms I've ever seen, even bigger than the lobby of Hotel Denouement. The walls and floor were made of some kind of marble that was polished so much that the lights on the ceiling were reflected on it, hurting my eyes. Crystal chandeliers were hanging high above us. The entire room was filled with counters and tables displaying all kinds of makeup and cosmetics. Wealthy looking ladies of all ages were sitting at the counters, looking at foundations and trying them on with the help of formal-looking staff.

Esmé pulled me in the direction of the lipsticks. She let go of my hand and began to examine them, testing some out. Carmelita joined her, greedily, searching for her favorite color before realizing that she wanted to be a ball-playing cowboy superhero soldier pirate and didn't need makeup. My eyes drifted toward the ceiling; there was something about those chandeliers that fascinated me—the crystals seemed to twinkle like stars.

I felt a tug on my arm and looked to see Esmé trying to get my attention. She had already picked out a color and several other types of cosmetics.

"Let's go," she said, "we're going on the elevator to get to the formal wear department."

I followed Esmé to a set of elevators. She pushed the button and one of them slid open. Carmelita shoved past me and I followed behind, trying to keep my chin up. We rode to the sixth floor of the enormous store, the doors opening onto a room containing racks and racks of dresses. There were mannequins of women looking elegant in slim fitting dresses and other outfits that had an assortment of colors, patterns, and designs. I couldn't remember being in a store with such elegant clothing. I was afraid to think of how expensive each item would be. I felt embarrassed whenever other people spent money on me, particularly when I knew it was extremely costly.

"Esmé," I said, "you really don't have to get me anything. I don't need anything."

"Who cares about what you _need_?" Carmelita said. "I only care about what I want and I want to be a ball-playing cowboy superhero soldier pirate!"

"Why don't you go pick out your outfit?" Esmé told Carmelita who raced off to greedily search the racks for a dress that would suit her for the cocktail party. Though she still seemed determined to be a ball-playing superhero soldier pirate every day except for Thursday.

"Carmelita's right, Jane," Esmé said, "when you're extremely wealthy and the city's sixth most important financial advisor, it's all about what you want rather than what you need. What do you want most?"

"My parents," I said, "or for the Baudelaires to forgive me but if I can't wish for any of them back then, I want to be a performer. And lately, I've come to take pleasure in writing."

Esmé gave me a funny look. "I'm not talking about _those _wants," Esmé said, "Don't you want anything that you can buy?"

"If I could buy anything I wanted…" I said, "I would want to buy a guitar or a piano." I smiled as I dreamt of having my own guitar or piano that I could play whenever I pleased.

Esmé scowled. "I meant in _this_ store," she said, sounding irritated. "Why is it so hard for you to decide what you want?"

"You're probably the first person who ever asked about what I wanted," I said. "Besides…the Baudelaires…"

Esmé continued to frown at me. "Alright," she said, "why don't you go explore and find something that _you_ want?"

"Even if you don't think it's a fashionable dress?" I asked.

Esmé pursed her lips. "We'll see," she said. "Now go. Being on our side means I'm allowed to spoil you."

She gave me a shove in the direction of the dresses.

I glanced from Esmé to the racks and racks of dresses, trying to decide which one I wanted. I mostly liked the dresses of vibrant colors. There was a gorgeous pink, bubble-dress that seemed as if it would be gorgeous but I could never see myself wearing it. I remembered when I had dressed up for the Winter Dance at the New York boarding school and was overjoyed by the beauty of the dress I had been given to wear. Perhaps if I found something similar, I could wear that. But then I remembered that the night had gone horribly wrong in every way so I decided I better wear something else.

I sighed and continued to search. The dresses were all so elegant but most of them were far too inappropriate for a ten year old to wear. It took me a while before I found one. It was a simple, white dress that didn't seem as revealing. I hurried to a dressing room and changed into it. Of course, I didn't look my best right now, but the dress was beautiful and suited my taste.

I came out and did a little spin.

Esmé glanced in my direction, frowning. She hurried over. "Jamie, what are you—" Esmé interrupted herself as she took another look at the dress. She narrowed her eyes. "You want to wear _that_?"

"I—" I was about to say that I adored this dress, when I caught a glance of myself in a nearby mirror. Seeing myself staring back in that snowy white dress, made my smile falter. Of course, it was as beautiful as when I first laid eyes on it. But when I looked at myself wearing it, I felt awkward. The dress suddenly felt too tight and it didn't feel right on me at the moment. My decision to change sides made even shopping for dresses feel as though I were choosing a direction to head. "No," I said finally. "I thought I did. But something has changed."

"That's the problem when you pick dresses that lack style," Esmé said, "but don't worry because I'm going to help you find one. This was only a test."

Esmé ordered me to go change out of the dress and I came back out only to have another dress shoved into my hands.

"Try this one on," Esmé said, handing me a lacy, black dress.

"Okay," I said with a sigh. I took it into the fitting room and slipped it on. You could see right through the lace and it made me uncomfortable. I shrugged and went back out to where Esmé was waiting. "It's a little…too revealing."

Esmé rolled her eyes. "Fine," she grumbled. "Take it off, I'll find something else."

She left and in no time returned with a dress that was hot pink with puff sleeves and a frilly skirt.

"I look like Little Bo Peep," I complained, staring in horror at my reflection. "Or a bubble gum princess of some sort."

"Isn't it just adorable?" Esmé cooed. "It's very in."

"I don't know," I said, "Can I wear something…a little simpler?"

"You want a simple dress?" Esmé started with a scowl.

"I'm sorry," I said, thinking quickly so as not to offend her. "I want it to be smashing but I don't want to draw too much attention to myself. Someone might recognize me and snatch me away."

Esmé frowned but nodded. "I suppose that's true," she agreed. "I'll try to tone it down a bit. Now go change."

I did as she said and Esmé brought me another dress. This one was a deep blue dress that had a lacy black skirt layered over the blue fabric and held in place with a black bow. It was strapless, the top half also blue with a pleated design. I had to admit that it wasn't bad. I decided perhaps I should settle for this one before Esmé could pull out anything much more frightening.

I slipped it on and found it fit like a glove. Coming out of the changing room, I waited for Esmé to come over from helping Carmelita search for her strange new outfit. When she saw me, a smile appeared on her face. "That dress is absolutely smashing, dear!" Esmé said.

"I like it," I said.

"Let's get it then," Esmé said in approval.

Then I was directed to wait while Esmé found an outfit for herself. She tried on a number of strange and revealing dresses, asking for my opinion every time. It was hard to express my opinion about each dress since they were all so whacky. I tried not to offend her again. At last, Esmé settled for a floor-length, silver dress that shined so brightly that I had to squint to look at it. Other than that, it didn't look so bad. It was much better than the frilly, hot pink dress she tried on before.

"Now all we need is a nice pair of shoes." She said, "For both of us. How do you feel about stilettos?"

"I can barely walk in wedges," I muttered but Esmé was already heading in the direction of the heels. Soon she had picked out a killer (literally) pair of black stilettos for me to wear. Esmé chose a silver pair of stilettos that were just as bright as the dress.

When that was all settled, Esmé tracked down Carmelita who had finished her search for the perfect new outfit. I couldn't tell what the items were but I noticed it consisted of a lot of blue.

Incredulously, Esmé insisted on going to purchase swimwear for herself and then realized Carmelita and I should have something too. Carmelita refused to get a swimsuit, saying she didn't want to be a swimmer. I tried to remind Esmé that it was pointless to get a swimsuit when I didn't even know how to swim. She insisted that I try on a bikini and then bought it despite my protests that it was far too pink, shiny, and skimpy. I shuddered just thinking about it. I would feel embarrassed, walking around in something so inappropriate. For once, I was glad that I never learned how to swim. At least, Esmé also let me get a sundress, so even if I had to wear the bikini I could wear something to cover it. Esmé didn't end up getting one because she had an idea of a bikini that she couldn't find here. Though she did purchase a pair of silver sandals with long, frilly straps that wrapped around her ankles. She got me a matching pair to my dismay.

Last but certainly not the least ridiculous was the pair of glasses Esmé bought. Two huge cones stuck out from the eyes where the lenses should have been. The cones got wider and wider until they stopped several feet in front of her face. Apparently they were called sunoculars so Esmé would be able to shield her eyes from the sun and watch the skies at night. I couldn't imagine why someone would be watching the skies at night unless they were interested in astronomy. She got me a pair too, much to my dismay.

Then, Esmé wanted to get me an everyday outfit.

"You're in desperate need of new clothes," Esmé said, "All the clothes you own are drab and completely out in every way."

I might have argued, except, I knew she was somewhat right. The clothes I wore everyday mostly consisted of plain t-shirts and pants or in the warmer months, shorts. There was nothing too special about my regular clothes. Though that didn't mean I wanted to walk around in clothing that made people want to cover their eyes.

"Do you want to be a…tomboy?" Esmé asked, glancing at Carmelita with a grimace. "Or do you want to wear girly outfits?"

"Neither," I said. "Can't I just wear something in between? Maybe a pair of jeans—"

"Ugh," Esmé interrupted. "Jeans are out unless they're designer jeans, of course. Don't worry. You'll learn everything you need to know about what's in and what's out. Isn't that exciting?"

"Of course," I said, trying to sound excited. "I suppose it's fun to wear something that makes a statement."

Esmé smiled. "That's better," she said.

"Are you still thinking about entering me into beauty pageants?" I asked as the thought occurred to me.

"Wouldn't that be exciting?" Esmé said. "In a few years, with practice, you could run for Miss America!"

"I'd rather be Miss Congeniality," I said, smiling as I thought of one of my favorite movies starring Sandra Bullock.

Esmé wore a disapproving frown. "We can discuss this further at another time," she said, quickly, "Let's find you something spunky!"

_Oh no_, I thought.

Esmé looked through an assortment of outfits in which I tried on. Each time, the outfit seemed to only get crazier. In the end, I got two rompers. One had a zebra pattern and the other was white and navy blue so that I looked like a sailor. Esmé thought I looked adorable and insisted that I must get them. She even agreed that if I got the two outfits, she would get me a red tank top and a pair of jeans. So it was that day in which I got my very first pair of designer jeans. I had to admit that I was a little excited that I now had an outfit in which I would love to wear. I suppose I was a bit like Esmé in the way that I liked clothes, but I just had better sense than to wear a dress that would make people squint from the brightness.

Satisfied with our clothes, Esmé took us to the nail salon. Carmelita refused to get them done since she was trying to be a tomboy. I didn't want to get my nails done either but I felt as if I was getting somewhere and I didn't want to ruin it. So I held my breath, picking out a dark blue for my toes and a sparkly turquoise for my fingers. As for Esmé her nails were painted silver and each hand spelled 'E-S-M-E' with an eye carved on both thumbs.

After that, Esmé took us to a café to eat brunch. She was careful to avoid Times Square and when we did have to pass through to get to the restaurant, I could tell she was being careful not to run into the place where _Evita _was showing.

Carmelita excused herself to use the restroom and I saw a good opportunity to talk with Esmé. Perhaps I could try getting to know her better.

"Thanks for the clothes," I said.

"Of course," Esmé said, "You're my niece afterall. I told you before that I don't want a member of my family walking around in horribly out clothing."

"Can I ask you a question, Esmé?" I said suddenly.

"I think I'm beginning to have déjà vu," Esmé said, "Haven't I already answered your endless questions?"

"Please?" I said.

Esmé grimaced but then she sighed. "Fine. What is it _this_ time?"

"Why do you like fashion so much?" I inquired. "Why is it so important to you?"

"I just have an appreciation for style," Esmé said, "What you wear says a lot about you."

"Like how you wore that fire dress?" I asked. "Was it to show that you were interested in arson?"

"Exactly," Esmé said, winking. "Now, let me ask you a question."

I raised my eyebrows. Was Esmé taking an interest in me now? "What's on your mind?"

"What made you decide to join us?" Esmé asked. That wasn't really what I was hoping for, but it'll get there. "It seemed so sudden and only yesterday, you were a goody-good like the Baudebrats."

I looked down at the table. "Well, there are many reasons," I said. "The Baudelaires hate me. They hate me so they abandoned me. I don't want to be by myself."

"Why do _they_ hate you?" Esmé asked, wrinkling her nose when she said 'they'.

"Your old associate with hooks for hands told them about how Count Olaf stole my notebook and found out that they had disguised theirselves as freaks at Caligari Carnival. He also told them about how you suggested pushing Madame Lulu in the lion pit. Klaus and his siblings think I did it for real. They think I'm a murderer."

"They're murderers too," Esmé said.

"No they're not," I said, "They were framed. But that's besides the point."

"I don't understand why that would make you turn to villainy," Esmé said, "The Baudebrats aren't as _special_ as you think, Jamie."

"They were special to me," I said, "They were more of a family to me than you've ever been." I knew it was harsh, but I couldn't help say it anyways.

Esmé frowned at me. "Believe what you want, Jamie," she said, "but their abandonment only proves my point. Why do you even care so much about them?"

"Like I said, they felt like my family," I said then I glanced down at the table again, blinking back my tears. "And I also…I really like Klaus. A lot." A tear formed at the corner of my eye. "I know I chose to switch sides and I'm sticking to my decision. But it still hurts. Almost as much as when I thought he died." More tears leaked from my eyes. "He was good to me and I was stupid enough to ruin it."

Esmé was staring at me intently, wearing a deep frown on her face. Her eyes seemed far away for a moment. Then she blinked and was back to the present, her frown softening. "I didn't know you felt that way," Esmé said, "I always thought it was only a crush."

"It's more," I said, "as ridiculous as that sounds. I just wish there was a way for him to know. I want him to know how I felt. Perhaps he might understand. But I'm just some pathetic, lonely orphan."

Esmé reached out her hand and placed it over mine on the table. I looked up, uncertain of how she would react. She wore a soft smile as her green eyes met mine."You're not pathetic," she said. For a moment it was as if all of Esmé's façade had faded away, "and you're certainly not alone now. I'd never allow it."

I couldn't help muster a smile of appreciation. "There's another reason why I joined…" I said, "I was hoping that if I joined, that maybe you would treat me better. I want to know you because I know I'll always regret it if I don't at least try.

"Do you want to know a secret?" Esmé said.

I nodded and leaned forward so she could tell me. "I've wanted to get to know you too," she said, "I hate the Baudelaire orphans. But you're my niece. I suppose trying to deny that hasn't worked out."

"Did you have any idea that I was Jamie Murray before you found out from the Murray file?" I asked.

Esmé shrugged. "I think I did," she said, "but I suppose I tried to block those thoughts out. When your mother died, I thought I saw her everywhere I went. Whenever I came across someone with bright hair or blue eyes, I would wonder if the person was Abigail. I've always wanted to believe that she survived but after so many years, I've finally come to terms with the fact that she's gone."

"Do you think that you were destined to become like this?" I asked after a moment. "Do you think it was fate that led you to become a villain?"

Esmé stared at me, taken aback by my question. "You could say that," she said after a moment, sounding cautious as her façade returned, "but everyone ultimately chooses the path they want to follow. Some people are smart enough to pick the more fashionable and powerful path. You won't get anything from being noble. Abigail decided she would take her chances as a volunteer and look how she ended up?"

"She really changed sides?" I asked.

"Yes," Esmé said, rolling her eyes. "Don't you know that?"

"Olaf told me she used to be his associate," I said, "but he never mentioned anything about her switching sides."

"Don't tell Olaf I told you," Esmé said, "but Abigail changed from a villain to a volunteer. She was originally on his side as much as I am now. One day something changed and Abigail had decided to become a volunteer. I still don't understand it. I blame your father since he's the one who kept filling her in about nobility and all that goody-good stuff."

I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Maybe my mother had been a villain, but she had changed because of my father. The thought was comforting though it still wouldn't help me with the situation I was facing. Perhaps my decision wasn't the right one after all.

"If you could go back and change your path," I said, "would you?"

Esmé narrowed her eyes at me. "Stop asking such irrelevant questions," she growled. "Everyone has things they wish they could change or take back. Why, are you starting to have doubts about your decision to join us?"

"It wouldn't matter even if I did," I said, glumly as the thought occurred to me. "If I said I wanted to go back to before, I'd have to go through this world by myself. I've said this many times Esmé, but you're all I have in this world."

Esmé was silent. She glanced back down at her plate of food and picked at a lonely piece of lettuce.

"Did you grow up with a mother, Esmé?" I asked after she didn't speak.

Esmé narrowed her eyes at me. "Not exactly," she said, bitterly, "I had Abigail. But I don't have a mother."

"That's ridiculous," I said, "everyone has or had a mother…even if they're not exactly around any longer for whatever reason."

"Well, mine hasn't been around since I was your age," Esmé said with a scowl. "I don't like to talk about her. I never liked my mother much."

"You're lucky," I said, "at least you had one."

"_Lucky?_" Esmé said angrily, "Do you think that everyone who has had parents that lasted longer than your own is _lucky?_ I wish I grew up without _any_ parents. All my parents ever did was become an encumbrance to my success."

"I'm sorry," I said, "I suppose not everyone can have parents that they respect. My parents weren't exactly the greatest people. At least my mother wasn't until she changed."

"One thing you should remember," Esmé said becoming suddenly very stern, "is that Murray's are always the greater people of the world. Never let anyone tell you that they're better than you are. And never rely on anyone for anything unless it's another family member. Not the Baudelaires."

"Then why are you so dependent of Count Olaf?" I asked.

"I'm not _dependent_ on him," Esmé growled. "I just happen to be his girlfriend. I'm _very_ independent. I'm the city's sixth most important financial advisor and I got there on my _own_ accord. _I_ starred in a play in my youth and I've done a great deal of bad things without _anyone's_ help."

"I'm sorry," I said, "I shouldn't have said that. Maybe that's what I need. To be more independent."

Esmé patted my head. "We're going to destroy those volunteers," she said, "and I'll teach all about being independent. You see, we're not doing this just because Olaf wants us to. We'll both do it for ourselves. In no time, you can become almost as successful as I am. Maybe when you're older, you'll be the city's sixth most important financial advisor and I'll be right at the top. Maybe then I'll tell you about my mother."

"Did you know," I said, "that before I knew you were in cahoots with Olaf, I admired you because of your success?"

"And now?" Esmé asked.

"Well," I said, "I never thought I'd say this, but I don't mind that you're my aunt. Not just because I'm evil now."

Esmé laughed. "Don't be ridiculous," she said, "just because you're on our side doesn't mean you're automatically _evil_."

"Well I'm not noble," I said.

"Being a volunteer doesn't mean that you're noble either," Esmé said.

"Then who am I?" I said. "Somewhere in between?"

"That's for you to decide," Esmé said. "The important part is that you're on our side."

"Why are you so nice to me all of the sudden?" I asked. "Why did you wait until now?"

"I care about you, Jamie," Esmé said, "I just wanted you to realize that villainy was the path to success."

"My mother didn't think so," I said.

"Your mother was thinking too much when she changed sides," Esmé said, "I tried to warn her that thinking was out but Abigail was blinded by the pleasant picture Henry painted for her. She made a mistake though, and it's a shame that she perished before she could realize that. I'm not sure I'll ever forgive her for abandoning our mission to destroy V.F.D."

"I thought you cared about my mother," I said, "I thought you said you were close."

"We _were_ close," Esmé said, "But then your mother switched sides and ruined everything. She didn't realize that nothing good could come from being a volunteer. But I'm going to help you take back what your mother threw away. You're still Abigail's daughter and I did promise her that I would try to be a good aunt to you. Why else do you think I've done all of this for you?"

I stared at Esmé and was about to say more when Carmelita returned. I remained quiet about how upset that made me. It made me realize that no matter how much I tried to get close to Esmé, she would never accept me for being anything but a villain. Esmé would treat me with kindness if I was on her side but I knew it would be a different story if I became a volunteer again. Esmé could never appreciate me for being myself. Just like she could never be accepting of my mother's choices. Even though I was with my real family, I felt as if I had gone back to where I was before I chose this path of villainy.

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	3. Ripples

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**Chapter Three: Ripples**

**_Klaus Baudelaire_**

As we followed Kit down the sloping lawn, I saw a very perplexing sight. It seemed as if we were walking on the roof of a building that lay flat on the ground rather than having been built to rise toward the sky. The Baudelaires' shoes were inches from the roof's glittering shingles, where a large sign read Hotel Denouement. A row of windows labeled with the number 9 on each of their shutters was below the sign, a little distance away from us. It was a very long row, which stretched so far that the end of it disappeared from our sight. The rows continued below the one labeled 9. Each row was labeled with a number in descending order until the numbers reached 0. An odd looking funnel stuck out from one of the windows of the 0 row and produced a white, dense cloud of vapor that came toward us, concealing a set of stairs that led to a large, curved archway one story above which was marked ENTRANCE. The building was built using odd, shiny bricks and flowers and dark green moss on the building which all lay out on the ground in front of us. A shutter opened and I suddenly realized that I was actually staring at the reflection of the building in a pond. I gazed up and met the same hotel except everything was designed so the hotel could be viewed clearly in the pond's reflection. The building was tilted toward the ground at a direct angle so that the hotel would be reflected into the pond, but the landscape and the sky were blocked out. The signs were written backwards so they could be read in the pond. Lastly, moss and lilies were grown on the bricks of the building in order to resemble the plants that grew on the surface of ponds. We glanced back and forth from the pond to the building before our minds could comprehend this obscure design.

"Over here, Baudelaires!" Kit Snicket called.

We looked over to see her sitting on an enormous blanket spread out over the grass. There was so much food on the blanket that it could have fed an army. The food consisted of three loaves of bread, each baked into a different shape set up in front of three small bowls containing jam, butter, and melted chocolate. An enormous basket held a variety of delicious pastries. There were muffins, danishes, donuts, and custard éclairs, which were my favorite. Two cylinder-shaped tin cans held quiche, a huge platter of smoked fish, and a wooden tray piled high with a pyramid of fruit. Three glass pitchers held three different kinds of juice, and there were silver pots containing coffee and tea. Silverware had been laid out in a sort of fan along with four napkins that were monogrammed, with the initials V. B., K. B., S. B., and the last one, J.M.

Kit must have noticed me sadly eyeing the fourth napkin because she took it away. "It's a shame your friend can't join us today," Kit said, "but don't worry. In a few days, she'll be safe again. But sit down, sit down," she continued as she took a bite of a pastry covered in powdered sugar. "As I said, we don't have much time, but that's no excuse for not eating well. Help yourselves to anything you like."

"Where did all this food come from?" I asked.

"One of our associates laid it out for us," Kit said. "It is a policy of our organization that all picnics travel separately from the volunteers. If our enemies capture the picnic, they won't get their clutches on us, and if our enemies capture us, they won't get the picnic. That's something to remember during the next couple of days, as you participate in what one of our enemies calls the 'perpetual struggle for room and food.' Please try the marmalade. It's delicious."

I felt dizzy still; the conversation was as perplexing as the hotel's design.

Violet reached into her pocket to find a ribbon. But before she could find it, Kit smiled kindly at her, and took out her own ribbon. She made a gesture so Violet would take a seat, and with a gentle look in her eyes, Kit tied Violet's hair up herself.

"You look just like your father." Kit sighed. "He wore the same frown whenever he was confused, although he almost never tied his hair up in a ribbon when he solved a problem. Please, Baudelaires, eat your brunch, and I'll try to catch you up on our current predicament. By the time you're eating your second pastry I hope your questions will be answered."

We did as she said, sitting on the blanket, spreading our napkins on our laps, and engulfed the meal before us. I was surprised to find that I was starving. I had some quiche and a custard éclair, while Violet enjoyed a smoked fish sandwich on dark bread and Sunny took a grapefruit, which she began to peel with her unusually sharp teeth.

Kit smiled kindly at us, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin embroidered with K. S., and began to speak.

"The building at the other end of the pond is the Hotel Denouement," she began. "Have you ever stayed there?"

"No," Violet said. "Our parents took us to the Hotel Preludio once for the weekend."

"That's right," I said. "I'd almost forgotten."

"Carrots for breakfast," Sunny said, remembering the weekend with a smile.

"Well, the Hotel Preludio is a lovely place," Kit said, "but the Hotel Denouement is more than that. For years, it's been a place where our volunteers can gather to exchange information, discuss plans to defeat our enemies, and return books we've borrowed from one another. Before the schism, there were countless places that served such purposes. Bookstores and banks, restaurants and stationary stores, cafés and laundromats, opium dens and geodesic domes—people of nobility and integrity could gather nearly everywhere."

"Those must have been wonderful times," Violet said.

"So I'm told," Kit said. "I was four years old when everything changed. Our organization shattered, and it was as if the world shattered, too, and one by one the safe places were destroyed. There was a large scientific laboratory, but the volunteer who owned the place was murdered. There was an enormous cavern, but a treacherous team of realtors claimed it for themselves. And there was an immense headquarters high in the Mortmain Mountains, but—"

"It was destroyed," I said quietly. "We were there shortly after the fire."

"Of course you were," Kit said. "I'd forgotten. Well, the headquarters was the penultimate safe place."

"Penulhoo?" Sunny asked.

"'Penultimate' means 'next-to-last,'" Kit explained. "When the mountain headquarters was destroyed, only the Hotel Denouement was left. In every other place on Earth, nobility and integrity are vanishing quickly." She sighed, and gazed out at the still, flat surface of the pond. "If we're not careful, they'll vanish completely. Can you imagine a world in which wickedness and deception were running rampant?"

"Yes," Violet said quietly, and her siblings nodded in agreement. It was easy to imagine such a world because we had lived in it since we met Count Olaf. It had been troublesome to refrain from committing our own acts of villainy. In some ways, we already had performed such acts. In fact, now it seemed even Jane had turned down that path when she killed Madame Lulu.

"When we were in the mountains," I said, "we found a message one of the volunteers had written. It said that V.F.D. would be gathering at the Hotel Denouement on Thursday."

Kit nodded, and reached to pour herself some more coffee. "Was the message addressed to J. S.?" she asked.

"Yes," Violet said. "We assumed the initials stood for Jacques Snicket."

"Brother?" Sunny asked.

Kit looked sadly down at her pastry. "Yes, Jacques was my brother. Because of the schism, I haven't seen either of my brothers for years, and it was only recently that I learned of his murder."

"We met Jacques very briefly," Violet said, referring to when we lived at the Village of Fowl Devotees. "You must have been shocked to receive the news."

"Saddened," Kit said, "but not shocked. So many good people have been slain by our enemies."

She reached her hands out to pat each of our hands in turn. "I know I don't have to tell you how terrible it feels to lose a family member. I felt so terrible that I vowed I would never leave my bed."

"What happened?" I said.

Kit smiled. "I got hungry," she said, "and when I opened the refrigerator, I found another message waiting for me."

"Verbal Fridge Dialogue," Violet said, "the same code as the message we found in the mountains."

"Yes," Kit said. "You three had been spotted by another volunteer. We knew, of course, that you children had nothing to do with my brother's death, no matter what that ridiculous reporter wrote in _The Daily Punctilio"_

The Baudelaires looked at one another. I nearly forgot about Geraldine Julienne, a journalist who had caused them much trouble even though it was accidental.

"Who spotted us?" Klaus asked.

"Quigley Quagmire and Melissa Sampson, of course," she said. "They found you in the Mortmain Mountains, and then managed to contact me when you were separated from him. The three of us managed to meet each other in an abandoned bathrobe emporium, where we disguised ourselves as mannequins while we figured out what todo next. Finally, we managed to send a Volunteer Factual Dispatch to Captain Widdershins's submarine."

_"Queequeg" _Sunny said.

"Our plan was to meet up with you at Briny Beach," Kit said, "and proceed to the Hotel Denouement for the V.F.D. gathering."

"But where are they now?" Violet asked.

Kit sighed, and took a sip of her coffee. "They both were eager to see you," she said. "Melissa had something to take care of at the hotel but you might see her around later. As for Quigley, he received word from his siblings."

"Duncan and Isadora!" I cried. "We haven't seen them for quite some time. Are they safe?"

"I hope so," Kit answered. "The message they sent was incomplete, but it sounded as if they were being attacked in midair while flying over the sea. Quigley went to help them immediately in a helicopter we stole from a nearby botanist. If all goes well, you'll see all three Quagmire triplets on Thursday. That is, unless you cancel the gathering."

"Cancel it?" Violet asked. "Why would we do a thing like that?"

"The last safe place may not be safe after all," Kit said sadly. "If that's the case, you Baudelaires will need to send V.F.D. a signal that Thursday's gathering is canceled."

"Why not safe?" Sunny asked.

Kit gave Sunny a smile and opened the cardboard folder, starting to search through the papers. "I'm sorry this is so disorganized," she said. "I haven't had time to update my commonplace book. My brother used to say that if only one had a little more time to do some important reading, all the secrets in the world would become clear. I've scarcely looked at these maps, poems, and blueprints that Charles sent me, or chosen wallpaper for the baby's room. Wait one moment, Baudelaires. I'll find it."

We continued to eat while we waited for Kit to find whatever it is she was looking for in her folder. Finally, she raised a small piece of paper rolled into a tiny scroll. "Here it is," she said. "A waiter slipped this to me last night by hiding it inside a cookie."

Kit handed me the piece of paper. I unrolled it and squinted at the writing. "'J. S. has checked in,'" I read out loud, "'and requested tea with sugar. My brother sends his regards. Sincerely, Frank.'"

"Usually the messages inside the cookies are just superstitious nonsense," Kit said, as I took out my commonplace book to begin taking notes on the message as well as the information Kit was currently telling us, "but recently the restaurant has changed management. You can understand why this message made me so distraught, Baudelaires. Someone is posing as my brother, and has checked into the hotel shortly before our entire organization is scheduled to arrive."

"Count Olaf," Violet said.

"It could be Olaf," Kit agreed, "but there are plenty of villains who are all too eager to be impostors. Those two villains in the mountains, for example."

"Or Hugo, Colette, or Kevin," I said.

"But this J. S. isn't necessarily a wicked person," Kit said. "Plenty of noble people would check into the Hotel Denoument and order sugar in their tea. Not to sweeten it, of course—tea should be as bitter as wormwood, my brother used to say, and as sharp as a two-edged sword—but as a signal. Our comrades and our enemies are all after the same thing—the Vessel For Disaccharides."

"Sugar bowl," Sunny said. My siblings and I shared a look of dismay. We had been searching for the sugar bowl for a while now but we never found it or discovered why it was so important.

"Exactly," Kit said. "The sugar bowl is on its way to the hotel even as we speak, and I'd hate to think what would happen if our enemies got ahold of it. I can't imagine anything worse, except perhaps if our enemies somehow got ahold of the Medusoid Mycelium."

Our dismay increased as we all realized that Count Olaf had gotten ahold of it. "I'm afraid that Count Olaf has a small sample of the Medusoid Mycelium," Violet said. "We had a few spores locked tight in a diving helmet, but Olaf managed to steal it."

Kit gasped. "Then we most certainly have no time to lose. The three of you must infiltrate the Hotel Denouement and observe J. S. If J. S. is a noble person, then you must make sure that the sugar bowl falls into his or her hands, but if J. S. is a villainous person, you must make sure it does not. And I'm sad to say that this won't be as easy as it sounds."

"It doesn't sound easy at all," I said.

"That's the spirit," Kit said, popping a grape into her mouth. "Of course, you won't be alone. Showing up early is _one _of the signs of a noble person, so there are other volunteers already at the hotel. You may even recognize some volunteers who have been observing you during your travels. But you also may recognize some of your enemies, as they will be posing as noble people by showing up early as well. While you try to observe the impostor, various impostors will undoubtedly be observing you."

"But how can we tell the volunteers from the enemies?" Violet asked.

"The same way you always do," Kit said. "When you first met Count Olaf, did you have any doubt he was a treacherous person? When you first met the Quagmire triplets, did you have any doubt that they were charming and resourceful? You'll have to observe everyone you see, and make such judgments yourselves. You Baudelaires will become flaneurs."

"Expound," Sunny said, which, meant, "I'm afraid I don't know what that word means."

"Flaneurs," Kit explained, "are people who quietly observe their surroundings, intruding only when it is absolutely necessary. Children make excellent flaneurs, as so few people notice them. You'll be able to pass unnoticed in the hotel."

"We can't pass unnoticed," I said. _"The Daily Punctilio _has published our photographs in the paper. Someone is sure to recognize us and report our presence to the authorities."

"My brother's right," Violet said. "Three children just can't go wandering around a hotel observing things."

Kit smiled, and lifted one corner of the picnic blanket, revealing four parcels. I assumed one was intended for Jane as well. "The man who sent me the message about the impostor," she said, "is a member of V.F.D. He suggested that he hire the three of you as concierges. Your uniforms are in these packets."

"Expound again," Sunny said.

I interrupted my note-taking to explain the meaning. "A concierge," I said to my sister, "is someone who performs various tasks for guests in the hotel."

"It's the perfect disguise," Kit said. "You'll be doing everything from fetching packages to recommending restaurants. You'll be allowed in every corner of the hotel, from the rooftop sunbathing salon to the laundry room in the basement, and no one will suspect you're there to spy on them. Frank will help you as best he can, but be very careful. The schism has turned many brothers into enemies. Under no circumstances should you reveal your true selves to Frank's treacherous identical brother Ernest."

"Identical?" Violet repeated. "If they're identical, how can we tell them apart?"

Kit took one last sip of her coffee. "Please try to pay attention," she said. "You'll have to observe everyone you see, and make such judgments yourselves. That's the only way to tell a villain from a volunteer. Now, is everything perfectly clear?"

I looked at my siblings. I found myself more confused than ever about this task.

I studied my notes and attempted to summarize our mission. "We're going to disguise ourselves as concierges," I said carefully, "in order to become flaneurs and observe an impostor who is either a volunteer or an enemy."

"A man named Frank is going to help us," Violet said, "but his brother Ernest will try to stop us."

"There are several other volunteers in the hotel," I said, "but several other enemies as well."

"Sugar bowl," Sunny said.

"Very good," Kit said approvingly. "When you're done with your brunch, you can change into your uniforms behind that tree, and signal to Frank that you're on your way. Do you have something you can throw into the pond?"

Violet reached into her pocket and drew out a stone she had picked up when we visited Briny Beach. "I imagine this will do," she said.

"That's perfect," Kit said. "Frank should be watching from one of the windows of the hotel, unless of course Ernest has intercepted my message and is watching instead. In any case, when you're ready to meet him, you can throw the rock into the pond, and he'll see the ripples and know you're on your way."

"Aren't you coming with us?" Klaus asked.

"I'm afraid not," Kit said. "I have other errands to perform. While Quigley tries to resolve the situation in the sky, I will try to resolve the situation in the sea, and you'll have to resolve the situation here on land."

"Us alone?" Sunny asked, meaning, "Do you really think three children can accomplish all this by themselves?" and we were quick to translate.

"Look at yourselves," Kit said, and gestured toward the pond. We rose and peered at our reflections on the pond's surface. "When your parents died," Kit said, "you were just a young girl, Violet. But you've matured. Those aren't the eyes of a young girl. They're the eyes of someone who has faced endless hardship. And look at you, Klaus. You have the look of an experienced researcher—not just the young reader who lost his parents in a fire. And Sunny, you're standing on your own two feet, and so many of your teeth are growing in that they don't appear to be of such unusual size, as they were when you were a baby. You're not children anymore, Baudelaires. You're volunteers, ready to face the challenges of a desperate and perplexing world. You must go to the Hotel Denouement, and Melissa must run certain errands, and Quigley must go to the self-sustaining hot air mobile home, and I must go to a coral formation of dubious quality where an inflatable raft should be waiting. But if Quigley manages toconstruct a net big enough to capture all those eagles, and I manage to contact Captain Widdershins and have him meet me at a certain clump of seaweed, we'll be here on Thursday. Hector should manage to land his self-sustaining hot air mobile home on the roof, even with all of us aboard."

"Hector?" Violet said. "He's safe?"

"I hope so," Kit said quietly, and stood up. She faced us, when she spoke her voice quavered. "Don't worry about the brunch things, Baudelaires. One of my comrades has volunteered to clean up after our picnic. He's a wonderful gentleman. You'll meet him on Thursday, if all goes well. If all goes well—"

She couldn't go on and instead let out a small whimper. Her shoulders trembled, crying harder and harder. After a moment, we decided to comfort her. Violet clasped one of her hands. I put an arm around her shoulder. Sunny hugged Kit above the knees.

"Why are you crying?" Violet asked. "Why are you so distraught?"

"Because all will not go well," Kit said finally. "You may as well know that now, Baudelaires. These are dark days, as dark as a crow flying through a pitch-black night. Our errands may be noble, but we will not succeed. I suspect that before Thursday, I'll see your signal and know that all our hopes have gone up in smoke."

"But how will we signal?" I asked. "Which code should we use?"

"Any code you devise," Kit said. "We'll be watching the skies."

Then, she shook herself out of our comforting arms, and walk quickly away without another word. We stood there, watching as Kit ran up the lawn and disappeared. For a moment none of we were silent. Sunny reached down and picked up the parcels.

"Change?" she asked.

"I guess so," Violet said with a sigh. "It seems a shame to waste all this food, but I can't eat any more brunch."

"Perhaps the volunteer who is cleaning it up will bring it to someone else," I said.

"Perhaps," Violet agreed. "There's so much about V.F.D. that remains a mystery."

"Perhaps we'll learn more when we're flaneurs," I said. "If we observe everything around us, perhaps some of these mysteries will become clear. I hope so."

"I hope so, too," Violet said.

"Also hope so," Sunny said.

We were silent again as we ducked behind a tree to change into our concierge disguises. There was a shiny silver belt with the words HOTEL DENOUEMENT printed in large, black letters all the way around it, a solid, round hat with an elastic band that tucked firmly under my chin, and a pair of clean white gloves. As I changed, I kept thinking about whether we would be able to figure out whether the imposter was an enemy or a volunteer.

We each out on a pair of sunglasses, which were similar to the ones Count Olaf wore when he was disguised as a detective. They were large enough so that I could wear my regular glasses underneath without anyone noticing. As I gazed at my reflection in the pond, I wondered if our disguises really could fool the guests so we could be flaneurs without being caught by the authorities. I wondered if we were ready to face such challenges of this confusing and miserable world as Kit Snicket said. I picked up the leftover parcel that would have been for Jane, wondering if our own paths were turning us more and more into bad people. It was a reminder of how much I missed her presence—of how sad I was that she had to turn to the path of villainy.

"Blaid," Sunny said suddenly, interrupting my thoughts, she meant, "I have something I need to tell you Klaus. It's about Jane."

"I don't want to hear about Jane right now, Sunny," I muttered, blinking back the tears that had been forming at the corners of my eyes. I dropped the parcel, looking away toward the pond with a deep frown. "She was our friend and she betrayed us. That's all I need to know. Now let's move on and try to forget about it."

"Usille," Sunny protested meaning, "You need to hear this. Jane told me about what happened when we were both in Olaf's clutches. And the way she explained it, I believe that she really is on our side."

I still frowned at Sunny but I didn't speak. I looked down at the parcel on the ground and grit my teeth. I glanced up at the strange building before us. Sunny tugged on my hand to get my attention.

"Rebal!" Sunny shrieked meaning, "Jane only did it because Esmé convinced her that it was the brave thing to do. She was doing it for us."

"That doesn't make any sense," I said, "why would Jane think that killing someone would save our lives? It's just not right. No matter how you put it."

"Banid," Sunny said meaning, "She said she didn't do it."

"Well, she's lying!" I cried. "She lied to you and to Violet and to me! Fernald said he saw her do it with his own eyes."

"Klaus," Violet said, "I'm not sure what to believe right now, but would you honestly trust Fernald over Jane? Jane is our closest friend."

"Not anymore," I said, quietly as a deep sadness washed over me, knowing that things were broken between Jane and I. I felt my own voice beginning to quaver. "Now can we please stop talking about this? We have errands to do for Kit and we don't want to make them wait."

"We'll talk about this later," Violet said.

Violet took the stone and threw it into the middle of the pond. We watched in silence as it sunk and I wondered if our hopes would have the same fate. The hotel's reflection blurred as the ripples in the pond distorted its reflection, disappearing from sight as I wondered whether our hopes would also disappear, into the strange, rippling world of the _Hotel Denouement_ and the mysteries within.

We headed for the entrance, leaving the parcel behind us.

* * *

**Review!**


	4. The Mission

**New chapter! Sorry it took longer! I've been so busy with school (APs are exhausting) and last weekend was homecoming lol. I hope this chapter makes up for it!**

* * *

**Chapter Four: The Mission**

_**Jamie Murray**_

As soon I returned from the shopping trip, I hurried to take a shower, something I hadn't been able to do in a few days. Unfortunately, Esmé forbid me from wearing my regular clothes and forced me to put on that uncomfortable pink, shiny bikini. I immediately slid the sundress on over it, much to Esmé's disapproval. She and Carmelita were heading to the rooftop sunbathing salon. Carmelita wanted to go on the wooden boat Olaf had reluctantly purchased for her and Esmé wanted to get a tan. She also mentioned something about watching the skies. Esmé let me stay behind to freshen up a bit as long as I didn't wander off. I suppose wandering off would make Olaf angry and I might be prevented from being one of his henchwoman.

Esmé and I hardly spoke since lunch. Esmé continued to fuss over me and Carmelita continued to envy the attention I was getting. I only muttered short responses every now and then. I suppose I shouldn't be complaining. Afterall, I was the one who wanted to do this so that Esmé would like me. I knew what I was getting myself into when I volunteered. It was my fault for getting my hopes up too high. I shouldn't let myself be so vulnerable. Especially if I wanted to continue being Olaf's associate. Though I was starting to wonder if this is truly the path for me.

A knock on the bedroom door interrupted my thoughts. I frowned in confusion. Who could that be? Should I answer it?

"Open up," the scratchy voice of Count Olaf sounded in my ears from the other side of the door.

I sighed and slid off my bed to answer the door. When I opened it, I found Olaf was not alone. With him was a very tall, skinny man with limbs that seemed to stick out at odd angles and he wore a red staff uniform with the word Manager sewn into it. and another man whom I recognized as the man with a beard but no hair.

"Where's Esmé?" Olaf asked neglecting to add in a greeting of some kind.

"She's at the rooftop bathing salon with Carmelita," I said.

"Why aren't you with her?" he asked, looking irritated.

"Esmé let me stay behind," I said, "I was just about to head up there."

Olaf frowned. "I thought I made myself clear before about wandering around this hotel by yourself," he growled. "You should be glad I found you before something terrible happened to you."

"Yes," the man with a beard but no hair said, giving me a wicked grin. I shuddered. "There are a lot of dangers in such a large and confusing hotel. Something could be lurking right underneath your nose and you might not even notice until it's too late. You never know who you can trust."

"Speaking of trust," Olaf said, "you're not doing a very good job convincing me that you'll be a good henchwoman. Well, I guess now I can tell you about the latest scheme I concocted with my fellow associates while you were out shopping."

He stepped inside the room and I stepped aside so the others could come inside too. I was a little reluctant to do this but I knew I didn't have much of a choice.

"First off," Olaf said, "there's someone I want you to meet, Ernest. This is the orphan I've been telling you about, Jamie Murray."

"She's not just any orphan if she's a Murray," Ernest said. He stepped forward and peered down at me as if I were on display. He reached out and grabbed my face roughly in his hands. He turned it from one side to the other.

"That's certainly her," he said, not letting go of my face. "She looks just like Abigail." He let go and gave me a mocking smile. "I'm one of the managers of the hotel. Ernest Denouement."

"Hello," I replied, trying to be polite. "It's nice to meet you."

"I knew your mother," Ernest said. "We go way back. I admit, I was shocked when I heard the news of your mother's death but when I found out her little daughter managed to survive, I was overjoyed. I knew you'd join us eventually. I just hope you won't disappoint."

"She'd better," the man with a beard but no hair said. He leaned down so that his face was level with mine. "Bad things will happen to you if you betray us. No one likes traitors. Though I shouldn't have to warn you about that. Your mother had to learn the hard way."

I shuddered. "I-I won't," I said. I suppose I really couldn't change sides then without facing dire consequences. "I'm on your side for good."

"Good," Ernest said.

"Now, orphan," Olaf said, "there is a certain item called the sugar bowl that is supposed to arrive by crow this very evening. Your job is simple. You just have to shoot the stupid bird down and we'll take care of the rest."

"But I've never used a gun in my life," I said, "How do you expect me to be able to shoot a crow in the pitch black?"

"It should come naturally to you," Olaf said. "I need you to get a harpoon. One of the concierges should be able to get it for you."

"Won't they be suspicious about a ten-year-old wanting a gun?" I said.

"That's why I need to tell Esmé," he said, "she can convince whoever it is to give it to you."

"The concierges have to do whatever you say," Ernest said, "in fact, I'm meeting my new concierges today. I better go see if they've arrived." He chuckled wickedly as he left.

"I really don't think I can do this," I said, "I'll miss. Why can't Esmé do it or someone else?"

"No," Olaf said, "Esmé's busy planning the cocktail party and my other henchmen are also occupied. Besides, you have to do it if you want to prove that you're really on my side. Don't argue further. You'll do it because I told you to do it. Now let's head to the rooftop."

So Olaf led me to the rooftop. The man with a beard but no hair had to go which I was very relieved about. Esmé was watching Carmelita on her pirate ship with a fond look. She was wearing a bikini…well it wasn't much of anything really. The bikini consisted of three pieces of lettuce taped together. I shuddered. I was suddenly glad that my bikini wasn't _that_ revealing.

"Esmé," Olaf greeted her. She glanced in our direction and she brightened.

"Olaf, darling," she cried. "And Jamie. What's going on?"

"I have something to tell you," he said. "I've formulated a new plan involving Jamie."

"What is it?" Esmé asked.

Olaf explained to her his new plan. Esmé's eyes widened and she looked at me.

"Are you sure we should trust her with a gun?" Esmé said. "She probably doesn't even know how to use one."

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Olaf said, "Abigail rarely had a problem."

"That's because she already knew how to use a gun," Esmé said, "and the first time she got lucky."

"The orphan might get lucky too," Olaf said, "or she'd better hope she is. Now I have to continue scheming for our cocktail party. Don't let the orphan out of your sight unless I tell you to."

"What are you talking about?" Carmelita said, as she wandered over.

Esmé and Olaf explained the plan to her except they left out the part about the sugarbowl.

"In fact," Olaf said, "you can also have a turn at shooting the crow in case Blondie misses."

"Why should I do it?" Carmelita said. "I'm not a crow shooter. I'm a ball-playing cowboy superhero soldier pirate!"

"If you do it," Olaf said, "then I'll teach you how to…spit like a real ball-playing cowboy superhero soldier pirate."

Carmelita looked pleased. "Fine," she said.

Olaf said something about having to plan more treachery and then left. Carmelita went back to her boat. I glanced at Esmé, worriedly.

"I really don't think I can do this," I said, "I-I have no training or anything."

"You'll be fine," Esmé said. "All you have to do is pull the trigger."

"And aim," I said, "I don't think I'll have a good aim especially in the dark."

"That's why I got you sunoculars," Esmé said. "I knew the bird was coming with the sugar bowl. You have to do it if you want to get the sugar bowl. Well, I'll get it since it belongs to me but you can consider this a gift to me. If you help us get the sugar bowl, I'll buy you anything your little heart desires. Now take off that sundress so you can get a proper tan. You're too pale."

I sighed, knowing that nothing would convince Esmé and Olaf not to make me do this. But how could I kill something-even if it was just a crow? I wasn't a killer. Maybe I almost killed Madame Lulu but I never would have gone through with it if the Baudelaire's lives weren't at stake. I knew I couldn't fail. The man with a beard but no hair made it clear that if I didn't follow through, I would be facing dire consequences. If my mother was killed for betraying the villains, I couldn't imagine what would happen to me.

* * *

_**Klaus Baudelaire **_

The lobby of Hotel Denouement was a crowded place. Guests were busy checking in. Bellboys and bellgirls loading piles of luggage onto carts and rolling them toward the elevators. Tourists were puzzled as they looked at maps and there were children playing hide-and-seek. Waiters and waitresses were serving food and drink to people who were sitting on the chairs and benches of the lobby, waiting for refreshment. Dogs were heading outside with their owners to take walks. A man in a tuxedo was sitting at a grand piano emblazoned with the number 152, playing a pretty tune and staff members were being cautious as they polished the green wooden floors etched with the number 123. A fountain in one corner of the room released a cascade of water over the number 131 in a shiny, smooth wall. Everywhere numbers were emblazoned, from the elevators to the front desks. As we maneuvered through the frenzied lobby, we tried to make observations but it was difficult when there was so much activity. I began to wonder how we would begin our mission.

"I had no idea this place would be so busy," Violet said, blinking at the lobby from behind her sunglasses.

"How in the world will we be able to observe the impostor," I wondered, "among all these possible suspects?"

"Frank first," Sunny said.

"Sunny's right," Violet said. "The first step in our errand should be locating our new employer. If he saw our signal from that open window, he should be expecting us."

"Unless his villainous brother Ernest is expecting us instead," I said.

"Or both," Sunny said.

"Why do you suppose there are so many numbers—" Violet started, but a man came towards us and interrupted her. He was very thin and towered over us, and his arms and legs stuck out at peculiar angles. His uniform looked similar to ours except that he had the word MANAGER embroidered in fancy script over one of the pockets of his coat.

"You must be the new concierges," he said. "Welcome to the Hotel Denouement. I'm one of the managers."

"Frank," Violet asked, "or Ernest?"

"Exactly," the man said, and winked at us. "I'm so happy the three of you are here, even if one of you is unusually short, because we're unusually short-handed. I'm so busy you'll have to figure out the system for yourself."

"System?" Klaus asked.

"This place is as complicated as it is enormous," said Frank, or perhaps Ernest, "and vice versa. I'd hate to think what would happen if you didn't understand it."

I studied him carefully, though his face was nearly impossible to read.

"We'll try our best," Violet said quietly.

"Good," said the manager, leading us across the enormous lobby.

"You'll be at our guests' beck and call," he continued. "If anyone and everyone staying here asks for assistance, you'll immediately volunteer to help them."

"Excuse me, sir," a bellboy interrupted. He held a suitcase in his hands and looked confused. "This luggage arrived in a taxi, but the driver said the guest wouldn't arrive until Thursday. What should I do?"

"Thursday?" said Frank or Ernest with a frown. "Excuse me, concierges. I don't suppose I have to tell you how important this is. I'll be right back."

Frank or Ernest went away with the bellboy into the crowd, leaving us standing near a huge wooden bench with the number 128 etched into the wood. I trailed my fingers along the bench, noticing the rings where people must have put down their glasses without a coaster underneath. "Do you think we were talking to Frank," I said, "or Ernest?"

"I don't know," Violet said. "He used the word 'volunteer.' Maybe that was some sort of a code."

"Thursinterest," Sunny said, which meant, "He knew that Thursday was important."

"That's true," I said, "but is it important to him because he's a volunteer or a villain?"

There was no time for any of my sisters to speak because the skinny man who was also very tall came toward us. "You must be the new concierges," he said, and we realized that this was the other brother. "Welcome to the Hotel Denouement."

"You must be Ernest," Violet tried.

"Or Frank," Sunny said.

"Yes," the manager said, though we were still confused about whom he was agreeing. "I'm very grateful you three are here. The hotel is quite busy at the moment, and we're expecting more guests to arrive on Thursday. Now, you'll be stationed at the concierge desk, number 175, right over here. Follow me."

We tagged along as he led us to the far wall of the lobby in which sat a large wooden desk below the number 175, painted on a large window, which displayed the dark, flat horizon of the sea. There was a frog shaped lamp perched on the desk. "We've got a pond on one side of us," said Ernest, though it could be Frank, "and the sea on the other side. It doesn't sound very safe, and yet some people think this is a very safe place indeed." The manager glanced quickly around and then lowered his voice. "What do you think?"

His expression was once more unfathomable, and I could not tell whether his reference implied he was good or evil.

"Hmm," Sunny said.

"Hmm," Frank or Ernest replied. "Now then, let me explain how this hotel is organized."

"Excuse me, sir," said a bellgirl, whose face was hidden by the stack of newspapers that she carried. "The latest edition of _The Daily Punctilio _has arrived."

"Let me see," said either Ernest or Frank, picking up a copy. "I heard that Geraldine Julienne has written an update on the Baudelaire case."

We froze and I was glad our sunglasses would conceal our worried expressions. The manager read the headline out loud "'BAUDELAIRES RUMORED TO RETURN TO THE CITY,'" he said. "'According to information recently discovered by this reporter when opening a cookie, Veronica, Klyde, and Susie Baudelaire, the notorious murderers of renowned actor Count Omar, are returning to the city, perhaps to commit more vicious murders or to continue their recent hobby of arson. Citizens are advised to watch for these three bloodthirsty children, and to report them to the authorities if they are spotted. If they are not spotted, citizens are advised to do nothing.'" The manager looked at us and his face was still impossible to decipher. "What do you think of that, concierges?"

"That's an interesting question," I replied.

"I'm glad you find it interesting," Ernest or Frank replied. Then he turned to the bellgirl. "I'll show you the newsstand in Room 168," he said, leaving us to stare out the window at the sea and the desk.

"I think that was Ernest," Violet said. "His comment about the hotel's safety sounded very sinister."

"But he didn't seem alarmed by the story in _The Daily Punctilio,"_ I said. "If Ernest is an enemy of V.F.D., he'd be on the watch for us. So that man was probably Frank."

"Maybe he just didn't recognize us," Violet said. "After all, few people recognize Count Olaf when he's in disguise, and his disguises aren't much better than ours. Maybe we look more like concierges than Baudelaires."

"Or maybe we don't look like Baudelaires at all," I said. "As Kit said, we're not children anymore."

"Nidiculous," Sunny said, meaning, "I think I'm still a child."

"That's true," I admitted, giving Sunny a smile, "but the older we get, the less likely it is that we'll be recognized."

"That should make it easier to do our errands," Violet said.

"What do you mean by that?" a familiar voice and we found that either Frank or Ernest had come back.

"What my associate meant," I said, thinking quickly, "is that it would be easier for us to start our work as concierges if you explained how the hotel is organized."

"I just said I would do that," said Frank or Ernest in an annoyed voice. "Once you understand how the Hotel Denouement works, you'll be able to perform your errands as easily as you would find a book in a library. And if you can find a book in a library, then you already know how this hotel works."

"Expound," Sunny said.

"The Hotel Denouement is organized according to the Dewey Decimal System," Frank or Ernest explained. "That's the same way books are organized in many libraries. For instance, if you wanted to find a book on German poetry, you would begin in the section of the library marked 800, which contains books on literature and rhetoric. Similarly, the eighth story of this hotel is reserved for our rhetorical guests. Within the 800 section of a library, you'd find books on German poetry labeled 831, and if you were to take the elevator up to the eighth story and walk into Room 831, you'd find a gathering of German poets. Understand?"

"I think so," I said. Although I was an experienced research, I had not memorized the Dewey Decimal System since I could use a catalog to better track them down. "Where can we find the catalog for the Hotel Denouement's services?"

"Catalog?" repeated either Frank or Ernest. "You shouldn't need a catalog. The entire 100 section of a library is dedicated to philosophy and psychology, and so is the first story of our hotel, from the reception desk, which is labeled 101 for the theory of philosophy, to the concierge desk, which is labeled 175 for the ethics of recreation and leisure, to the couches over there, which are labeled 135, for dreams and mysteries, in case our guests want to take a nap or conceal something underneath the sofa cushions. The second story is the 200s, for religion, and we have a church, a cathedral, a chapel, a synagogue, a mosque, a temple, a shrine, a shuffleboard court, and Room 296, which is currently occupied by a somewhat cranky rabbi. The third story is the social sciences, where we have placed our ballrooms and meeting rooms; the fourth story is dedicated to language, so most of our foreigners stay there. The 500s are dedicated to mathematics and science, and the sixth story is dedicated to technology, from the sauna in Room 613, which stands for the promotion of health, to Room 697, which is where we keep the controls for heating, ventilation, and air conditioning. Now, if the seventh story stands for the arts, what do you think we would find in Room 792, which stands for stage presentations?"

"A theater?" Violet said.

"You've obviously visited a library before," the manager said. "I'm afraid that's not true of all of our guests, so when they are in need of any of our services, they ring for a concierge instead of wandering around the hotel by themselves. In the next day or so, you'll probably walk through every section of the hotel, from the astronomy observatory in Room 999 to the employees' quarters in the basement, Room 000."

"Is that where we sleep?" I asked.

"Well, you're on duty twenty-four hours a day," Ernest said, or perhaps it was Frank. "But the hotel gets very quiet at night, when the guests go to sleep, or stay up all night reading. You can nap behind the desk, and when someone rings for you it will serve as an alarm clock."

Frank or Ernest paused and looked around before leaning toward us. I stared back, nervously. "Your positions as concierges," he said in his unfathomable tone, "are excellent opportunities for you to quietly observe your surroundings. People tend to treat the hotel staff as if they are invisible, so you will have the chance to see and hear quite a lot of interesting things. However, you should remember that you will also have many opportunities to be observed. Do I make myself clear?"

"Hmm," Violet said. "That's an interesting question."

Either Frank or Ernest narrowed his eyes at my older sister, and seemed about to speak when the we suddenly heard a loud, piercing ringing sound. "Aha!" the manager cried. "Your work has begun!"

We followed behind Ernest or Frank to the other side of the desk where there was a vast system of tiny bells. Each bell was labeled from 000 to 999. There was another bell without a label, which was currently ringing along with the bell marked 371 and another with 674.

with one extra bell that had no number at all. This extra bell was ringing, along with the bell numbered 371 and the bell numbered 674.

"Ring!" cried either Ernest or Frank. "Ring! I shouldn't have to tell you the bell's your signal. We can't keep our guests waiting for even an instant. You can tell which guest is ringing by the number on the bell. If the number written on the bell was 469, for example, you would know that one of our Portuguese guests required assistance. Are you paying attention? The bell marked 674 indicates our associates in the lumber industry, as the number 674 means lumber processing or wood products in the Dewey Decimal System. We can't make enemies out of important guests! The number 371 indicates educational guests. Please be nice to them, too, although they're much less important. Respond to all of our guests whenever you hear that ring!"

"But what does that unmarked bell refer to?" I asked. "The Dewey Decimal System doesn't go higher than 999."

The manager frowned, as if I had given him the wrong answer. "That's the rooftop sunbathing salon," he said. "People who sunbathe aren't usually interested in library science, so they're not picky about the salon's location. Now, get moving!"

"But where shall we go first?" Violet said. "Guests have requested assistance in three places at once."

"You'll have to split up, of course," Frank or Ernest replied, as unfathomably as ever. "Each concierge will choose a guest and hurry to their location. Take the elevators- they're at 118, for force and energy."

"Excuse me, sir," said another bellboy, tapping Ernest or Frank on the shoulder. "There's a banker on the phone who wants to speak to one of the managers right away."

"I'd better get to work," the manager said, "and so should you, concierges. Off with you!"

His rude dismissal displeased me as well as having to split up to wander around this confusing hotel without a catalog. I wasn't pleased that we couldn't tell which manager was Frank and which was Ernest. The news of The Daily Punctilio alerting citizens of our whereabouts was unsettling.

"I'll go to the rooftop sunbathing salon," Violet said, trying to be brave. "Klaus, why don't you take Room 674, and Sunny, you can take Room 371. We'll all meet up at the concierge desk when we're done."

"We'll be able to observe more this way," I said hopefully. "With the three of us on three separate stories, we can find the impostor much more quickly."

"Unsafe," Sunny said, which meant something along the lines of, "I'd rather not find the impostor if I'm all by myself."

"You'll be safe, Sunny," I said. "This hotel is just like a large library."

"Yes," Violet said. "And what's the worst thing that can happen in a library?"

I wasn't sure how to answer her and we were silent as we waited for the elevator. We stepped inside when one arrived and pushed the buttons for the guests' locations. I was reminded of the dark elevator shaft at 667 Dark Avenue and I knew the worst thing that could happen in an elevator shaft was being thrown down one by a villainous woman. I knew the worst thing that could happen at a lumbermill was being forced to cause a violent accident through hypnotism. I knew the worst thing that could happen at a school was having some close friends stolen away. I knew the worst thing that could happen in a Reptile Room, and in a small village, and in a cave, and at a carnival, and at the top of a mountain, and at a hospital, and in a submarine, and inside the trunk of a car, and in a lion pit, and within the currents of a rushing stream, and in a secret passageway, and many more miserable places I tried not to think about. Throughout our miserable lives, we encountered many libraries that helped save our lives. I did not want to imagine the worst thing that could happen in a library, especially after seeing a sign that read: IN CASE OF A FIRE. I shuddered as the doors of the elevator opened onto the sixth floor.

* * *

**Review! :)**

**I really will try to update ASAP! **

**Btw that new show 666 Park Avenue sounds so much like 667 Dark Avenue lol**


	5. Separate Ways

**New Chapter! R&R as always please :) **

* * *

**Chapter Five: ****Separate Ways**

_**Jamie Murray**_

I sat on the edge of the pool with my feet in the water. I adjusted the pair of sunglasses I asked Esmé for so the reflection of the sun in those mirrors wouldn't blind me. It was very hot this afternoon and I wished that the pool wasn't heated so I could cool off. For some reason the pool was heated so much that steam rose from it. Only Carmelita found a use for it as she sailed her large, wooden boat all over the pool. On the bow of the boat was an elaborately engraved figurehead of an octopus attacking a man. There was a tall mast, stretching up toward the sky, which held a billowing sail branded with a familiar eye. Olaf had decided to attach the helmet filled with Medusoid Mycellium to the stern.

The outfit Carmelita had purchased to be a ball-playing cowboy superhero soldier pirate consisted of a light blue jacket, which had shiny medals on it. The jacket wasn't buttoned so that I could see she wore a white t-shirt with the name of a sports team written on it in a curly font. A blue cape was attached to the back of her jacket and she wore a pair of bright blue boots with spurs on her feet. On her head was a triangular blue hat with a skull and crossbones symbol printed on it to show that she was a pirate. She also wore a blue eye patch. Overall, her outfit was just as ridiculous as Esmé's bikini.

All around the pool, guests were lying out on shiny mats, tanning their lotion-covered skin. Hugo was disguised as an attendant, dressed in a long, baggy robe and green sunglasses. He clutched two gigantic spatulas and used them to flip over the sunbathers as though they were pancakes. The light reflected in the mirrors was to aid in the tanning process. I was worried about getting burned because one of the features of being blonde with fair skin is that I burned easily without sunscreen. Esmé only offered me tanning lotion when I asked. Thinking about it made me remove my sunglasses. I didn't care for having tan skin but if I had to have one, I didn't want it to turn out weird.

I glanced over to where Esmé was having a conversation with Geraldine Julienne, the reporter from _The Daily Punctilio_ who had caused the Baudelaires so much trouble. I sighed, wondering where the Baudelaires could be. Were they here? Did they even make it out of the ocean? Even though we weren't friends anymore I hoped they were all right.

Bored, I got up from where I had been sitting and wandered over to Esmé.

"Did you see the latest edition of _The Daily Punctilio_?" Geraldine Julienne was saying.

"I don't follow the newspaper," Esmé said, wrinkling her nose. "Unless of course it has a section on the latest fashion."

"Well, you should," Geraldine Julienne said, "there has been a report that the Baudelaire murderers have returned to the city. Probably to commit more crimes."

"Is that so?" Esmé said, a slow smile creeping on her lips, which were coated in silver lipstick. "I hope someone catches those criminals and locks them away for good. Don't you, Jane?"

Esmé glanced in my direction, her eyebrows raised as if she were testing me.

"I hope justice is served," I said, believing that to be a safe answer.

"That's right," Esmé said, "which is why I'm glad to announce that I'll be hosting a glamorous—"

"Wait a moment," Geraldine Julienne said interrupting Esmé and looking at me curiously. "Aren't you Jane Rumary? I recognize you as that young performer at Caligari Carnival. I didn't expect to see you here."

"Yes that's me," I said. "I'm here with my aunt, Esmé."

Esmé looked a little dumbfounded that all the attention was suddenly on me. She laid a hand on my shoulder.

"That's right, she is my niece," Esmé said, trying to bring the conversation back to herself. "I raised the girl from birth to be a star. One day she might become almost as successful as I am."

"Will you be performing at the party?" the reporter asked me, jamming her mic under my chin.

"Of course," I replied when Esmé gave me a look that said 'you better not ruin this.'

This made the reporter light up. "Can you give us any inside on what you'll be singing, dear?" she asked.

"Actually," I said, "I haven't decided. So you'll just have to come to the party and see for yourself."

"Wonderful!" Geraldine Julienne cried. "I can see the headlines now: Young Performer, Jane Rumary, Prepares a Surprise For In Cocktail Party.

"Don't forget to mention the hostess," Esmé said, "Me."

"Oh, of course," the reporter said. "And I will certainly be there."

"I rang the bell for the concierge," Esmé said to me. "All you have to do is ask them what you want and you'll get it, darling. Go back over to the pool so _I _can talk to the reporter."

"I was wondering—" I began but Esmé gave me a look so I faltered. I sighed and walked back over to the ledge of the pool.

At that moment, I glanced up and watched as the doors to the elevator slid open, revealing a woman wearing a uniform similar to Ernest Denouement's except the label read that she was a concierge. She wore a pair of large sunglasses, similar to mine, that covered most of her face. As she stepped off the elevator, looking a bit nervous, my eyes widened. The concierge was not a woman, but a girl with dark hair and fair skin. I blinked and even with the sunglasses obscuring her face, I knew that she was Violet Baudelaire. My heart filled with dread as I realized she was the one I would be making my request to. If she didn't believe I was a murderer before, she'll certainly change her mind when I ask her for a harpoon to shoot a bird. Quickly, I put my sunglasses back on.

"Here you are at last," Esmé Squalor said to her. "I thought I'd never see you here."

"Pardon me?" Violet asked nervously.

I began to contemplate whether I should make a break for the elevators to avoid her seeing me and so I wouldn't have to ask for the harpoon gun. I got up from the ledge and decided to use the steam to my advantage, walking around the far side of the pool so that the haze would attempt to conceal me from view.

"Are you deaf, concierge?" Esmé demanded, pointing an accusing finger at Violet. "Glamorous people like myself don't have time to be nice to the deaf," she snarled. "I rang the concierge bell more than two minutes ago, and I've been waiting the entire time!"

"I can see the headline now," Geraldine Julienne crowed, '"UNBELIEVABLY GLAMOROUS AND BEAUTIFUL WOMAN COMPLAINS ABOUT HOTEL SERVICE!' Wait until the readers of _The Daily Punctilio _see that!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Violet said. "The concierges are particularly busy today. What is it you require?"

"It's not what_ I _require," Esmé said, "It's what those adorable little girls at the pool require."

"I'm not an adorable little girl!" Violet turned and fortunately, I was ducked a little behind the boat. She saw Carmelita who was still on her wooden boat. "I'm a ball-playing cowboy superhero soldier pirate!" she cried, emerging from a cloud of steam.

"Of course you are, darling," purred Esmé and smiled at Geraldine Julienne as if she thought Carmelita's bratty remark was adorable. "Carmelita has been a tomboy lately," she said.

"I'm sure your daughter will grow out of it," Geraldine replied.

"Carmelita Spats is not my daughter," Esmé said haughtily. "I'd no sooner have children of my own than I would wear modest clothing."

"I thought you adopted four orphans," Geraldine said.

"When it was in," Esmé hurriedly added. "But orphans are out now. Well, except for my niece of course. Though I don't know where she went off to, I thought she was by the pool."

"I'm sure she'll turn up," Geraldine said. "So if orphans are out then what's in?"

"Planning cocktail parties in hotels, of course!" Esmé crowed. "Why else would I let a ridiculous woman like yourself interview me?"

"How wonderful!" cried Geraldine, who didn't seem to mind or understand that Esmé had just insulted her. "I can see the headline now: 'ESMÉ SQUALOR, THE MOST GLAMOROUS PERSON EVER!' Wait until the readers of _The Daily Punctilio _see that! When they read about your career as an actress, financial advisor, girlfriend, and cocktail party hostess, they'll get so excited that some of them will probably have heart attacks!"

"I hope so," Esmé said.

"I'm sure my readers will want to know all about your stylish outfit," Geraldine said, holding her microphone under Esmé's chin. "Will you tell us something about those unusual glasses you're wearing?"

"They're sunoculars," Esmé said, patting her strange eyewear. "They're a combination of sunglasses and binoculars. They're very in, and this way I can watch the skies without getting the sun in my eyes—or the moon, if something should happen to arrive at night."

"Why would you want to watch the skies?" Geraldine asked curiously.

Esmé frowned, and my eyes widened as I realized she had let slip part of Olaf's scheme. "Because bird watching is very in," she said unconvincingly.

"Wait until the readers of _The Daily Punctilio _hear that!" Geraldine gasped, who must be very gullible to believe that. "Will all the guests at your cocktail party be wearing sunoculars?"

"No matter what the guests are wearing," Esmé said with a smirk, "they won't be able to see the surprises we have in store for them."

"What surprises?" Geraldine asked eagerly.

"If I told you what they were," Esmé said, "they wouldn't be surprises."

"Couldn't you give me a hint?" Geraldine asked.

"No," Esmé said.

"Not even a little one?" Geraldine asked.

"No," Esmé said.

"Pretty please?" Geraldine whined. "Pretty please with sugar on top?"

Esmé's silver-coated lips curled thoughtfully. "If I give you a hint," she said, "you'll have to tell me something, too. You're a reporter, so you know all sorts of interesting information. Before I reveal my special hors d'oeuvres for Thursday's cocktail party, I want you to tell me something about a certain guest at this hotel. He's been lurking around the basement, plotting to spoil our party. His initials are J. S."

"Lurking around the basement?" Geraldine repeated. "But J. S. is—"

"Esmé!" Carmelita yelled from the swimming pool. "That concierge is just standing there, when she's supposed to be at my beck and call! She's nothing but a cakesniffer!"

Esmé turned to Violet. "What are you waiting for?" she snarled. "Go get whatever those darling little girls want! Jane, come out from behind that boat, and ask the concierge what you want her to get for you."

I cringed, knowing that it was useless to try and hide now that Esmé had seen me. I moved guiltily out from behind the boat. Esmé twirled around and marched away, and I was a little relieved that a few more pieces of lettuce were added to her outfit in the rear. Violet walked over to the edge of the pool where I stood. "What is it you want?" she asked.

"A harpoon gun," I said nervously.

I couldn't see through her dark sunglasses but I could tell by the frown on Violet's face that she was wondering why on earth I would need a harpoon gun.

"Countie said that I can't be a ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate without a harpoon gun," she said, "Jane and I are going to have a contest to see who's better at using one. I'm going to win, of course. Jane's a cakesniffer!"

"Who's Countie?" Geraldine asked.

"Esme's boyfriend," Carmelita said. "He thinks I'm the most darling, special little girl in the entire world. He said if I used my harpoon gun properly he would teach me how to spit like a real ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate!"

"I can see the headline now," Geraldine said into her microphone. "'BALLPLAYING COWBOY SUPERHERO SOLDIER PIRATE LEARNS TO SPIT.'' Wait until the readers _of The Daily Punctilio _see that!"

"I'll fetch you a harpoon gun, miss." Violet promised to Carmelita. She glanced quickly at me and then away again.

"Stop calling me 'miss,' you cakesniffer!" Carmelita said. "I'm a ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate!"

Violet apologized and then left, taking the elevator again. I waited a moment and then, I took advantage of Esmé having stormed away. I hurried over to the elevator and entered, pressing the button to floor seven. I didn't want to be there when Violet returned.

I reached the room and went immediately to change out of the swimsuit and put on the red tank top with jeans. I went over to my bag and stuck my notebook in my pocket. I shouldn't let it out of my sight again, in case someone else tried to steal it. I had already completed my description of everything that happened from where I left off until the arrival of the Baudelaires on the _Carmelita_. I wasn't sure if I should write the real ending or just make up something happier. I sighed and headed back out the door, hoping when I came back to the rooftop, Violet will have finished with delivering the harpoon gun and I would be out of the woods for now. As I made my way toward the elevators a tall, lanky figure stepped in my way, blocking my path. I expected to see Olaf but instead I met the sinister face of Ernest Denouement. His mouth was set in a sly grin. He held a thick roll of hard paper or something in his hands.

"Look who it is," he said, "Jamie Murray. Now, what are you doing wandering around my hotel on your own? Shouldn't you be with Esmé?"

"I was with her," I said, "I just had to—"

"Don't lie, Jamie," he said, "It's not noble to lie."

"Well, I'm not a noble person, am I?" I said.

His grin widened. "You're right," he said, "I should have known. But you still shouldn't lie to the people whose side you've recently joined. Now, why don't you come with me? I have an important errand that I need your assistance with to help with our grand scheme and then I'll bring you back to Esmé."

"I don't know," I said, uncertain of whether I could trust Ernest.

But he didn't seem to care because he grabbed a hold of my arm and dragged me down the hall to the elevators with his free hand.

* * *

_**Klaus Baudelaire**_

"Hello?" I called, knocking on the door.

"Hello yourself," called back a voice that sounded slightly familiar and utterly unconcerned. "Are you one of those concertinas?"

"I'm a concierge," I said, though I didn't think it would be wise to point out that a concertina is a type of accordion. "Can I be of assistance?"

"Of course you can be of assistance!" the voice called back. "That's why I rang for you! Enter at once!"

I wouldn't normally enter a room filled with smoke, however, since I was working as a concierge, even if I was making observations, I knew I would have to do things I didn't want to do. I opened the door and a cloud of smoke wafted into the hallway. I took a few steps into the room where a short figure that was dressed in a suit of bright green cloth at the opposite end of the room, looking out the window. He held a cigar behind him and I realized why there was so much smoke. I also realized in despair that this man was someone I had wished to never see again.

It was Sir from Lucky Smells Lumbermill who's face we never saw because he was always smoking a cigar and we called him Sir because he never told us his name since it was too difficult to pronounce. However, I learned all about his cruel and greedy attitude, and I wasn't looking forward to enduring his selfishness again.

"Well, don't just stand there!" Sir shouted. "Ask what you can do for me!"

"What can I do for you, Sir?" I asked.

Sir turned sharply, the cloud of smoke moved with him. "How did you know my name?" he asked suspiciously.

"The concierge didn't know your name," said another voice patiently. I noticed another person sitting on the bed, wearing a bathrobe that belonged to the hotel. I also recognized him from Lucky Smells, though I was unsure of whether I should be happy to se him or not. He had shown us kindness during our stay and it had given us a sense of relief, however, I wasn't happy to see that Charles was still a partner with Sir, who was just as cruel to him as he had been to us. "I'm sure the concierge calls all the male guests in this hotel 'sir.'"

"Of course he does!" Sir shouted. "I'm not an idiot! Now then, concertina, we want to be taken to the sauna right away!"

"Yes sir," I said and I was glad that Frank or Ernest had told us that the sauna was located in Room 613. It would have been tricky to find a sauna without a catalog. "The sauna should be down the hall, on the opposite side," I said. "If you gentlemen will follow me, I'll take you there."

"I'm sorry we made you come all the way to our rooms just to take us right down the hall," Charles said.

"It's my pleasure," I said. I was hoping to find out why on earth Sir and Charles had come to Hotel Denouement.

"Let's go this very instant!" Sir shouted, storming out into the hallway.

"Don't you want to change into a bathing suit?" Charles asked. "If you're fully clothed, you won't get the health benefits of the steam."

"I don't care about the health benefits of the steam!" Sir shouted. "I'm not an idiot! I just love the smell of hot wood!"

Charles sighed, and I led them into the hallway. "I was hoping my partner would relax during our stay here," he said, "but I'm afraid he's taking a busman's holiday."

I knew that a busman's holiday was when someone goes on vacation and does the same thing as they usually do when they're not. Despite Charles' wanting to relax at the Hotel Denouement, I still didn't understand why they had come so close to the V.F.D. meeting on Thursday.

"Are you here on business?" I asked, hoping to get more information.

"Don't tell that concertina anything!" Sir cried. "He's supposed to be at our beck and call, not nosing around in our business like a spy!"

"Forgive me, Sir," I said, trying to sound calm. "We've arrived at the sauna."

Room 613 in which the sauna was located, a cloud of steam poured out of the gap under the door as if it were a reflection of Sir's cigar smoke. "You can wait outside, concertina," said Sir. "We'll shout for you when we're ready to be escorted back to our room."

"We don't need to be escorted," Charles said timidly as he opened the door and the cloud of vapor drifted into the hall. "It's just down the hallway. I'm sure the concierge has enough to do without waiting around for us."

"But someone has to hold my cigar!" Sir shouted. "I can't walk into a room full of steam with a head full of smoke! I'm not an idiot!"

"Of course not," Charles said with a sigh, and walked into the sauna. Sir thrust his cigar into my hands, entering the sauna before the cloud of smoke could fade away. The door began to close, but a thought occurred to me and I quickly stuck out my foot and I quietly snuck into the room, pausing to leave Sir's cigar on the edge of one of the ornamental vases. The sauna steam was thick enough that I couldn't see Sir or Charles so I knew they couldn't see me. It was a flaneur's perfect opportunity to eavesdrop on a private conversation.

"I wish you could be more polite," Charles said, his voice drifting through the steam. "There was no reason to accuse that concierge of being a spy."

"I was just trying to be cautious!" Sir said gruffly, a word which here means "in a tone that indicated he had no intention of being more polite." Klaus heard the crinkle of his shiny suit, and imagined that the lumbermill owner was shrugging. "You're the one who said enemies might be lurking in this hotel!"

"That's what I was told in the letter I received," Charles said. "According to J. S., we must be very cautious if we want to find the Baudelaires."

I was suddenly exceptionally glad that the steam concealed my awed expression. I couldn't imagine why the mysterious impostor J. S. was assisting Charles in finding my sisters and I.

I began to feel very nervous about the conversation that I was hearing.

"I don't want to find the Baudelaires!" Sir said. "Those orphans were nothing but trouble for the lumbermill!"

"They weren't the cause of the trouble," Charles said. "Count Olaf was. Don't you remember?"

"Of course I remember!" Sir cried. "I'm not an idiot! Count Olaf disguised himself as a rather attractive young lady, and worked with that sinister hypnotist to cause accidents in my mill! If the Baudelaires didn't have that fortune waiting for them in the bank, Olaf never would have done all that mischief! It's the orphans' fault!"

"I suppose you're right," Charles said, "but I still would like to find them. According to _The Daily Punctilio, _the Baudelaires are in a heap of trouble."

"According to _The Daily Punctilio," _Sir said, "the Baudelaires are murderers! For all we know, that bookworm with the eyeglasses could sneak up on us right here in the hotel and kill us to death!"

"The children aren't going to murder us," Charles said, "although after their experiences at Lucky Smells I could hardly blame them. In fact, if I manage to find them, the first thing I'll do is give them my sincere apologies. Perhaps I can ask one of the concierges for a pair of binoculars. J. S. said they might be arriving by submarine, so I could watch for a periscope rising from the sea."

"I wish our room had a view of the pond instead," Sir said. "When I'm done with a cigar, I like to drop the butt into a calm body of water and watch the pretty ripples."

"I'm not sure that would be good for the pond," Charles said.

"What do I care about the pond?" Sir demanded. "I have better things to do than worry about the environment. The Finite Forest is running low on trees, so business is bad for the lumbermill. The last big order we had was for building that horseradish factory, and that was a very long time ago. I'm hoping Thursday's cocktail party will be an excellent opportunity to do some business. After all, if it weren't for my lumber, this hotel wouldn't even exist!"

"I remember," Charles said. "We hadtodeliver the lumber in the middle of the night. But Sir, you told me you never heard from that organization again."

"I didn't," Sir said, "until now. You're not the only one who gets notes from this fellow J. S. I'm invited to a party he's hosting on Thursday night, and he said I should bring all my valuables. That must mean plenty of rich people will be there-rich people who might want to buy some lumber."

"Perhaps if the lumbermill becomes more successful," Charles said, "we could pay our employees with money, instead of just gum and coupons."

"Don't be an idiot!" Sir said. "Gum and coupons is a fair deal! If you spent less time reading and more time thinking about lumber, you'd care more about money and less about people!"

"There's nothing wrong with caring about people," Charles said quietly. "I care about you, Sir. And I care about the Baudelaires. If what J. S. wrote is true, then their parents—"

"Excuse me." The door of the sauna swung open, I watched as a tall, dim figure came into the steamy room followed by a shorter, equally dim figure.

"Is that my concertina?" Sir barked. "I told you to wait outside!"

"No, I'm one of the managers of the hotel," said either Frank or Ernest. "We do have a concertina available in Room 786, if you're interested in musical instruments. I'm sorry to interrupt your afternoon, but I'm afraid I must ask all guests to vacate the sauna. A situation has arisen that requires the use of this room. If you are interested in steam, there's quite a bit of it in Room—"

"I don't care about steam!" cried Sir. "I just like smelling hot wood! Where else can I smell hot wood, except in the sauna?"

"Room 547 is dedicated to organic chemistry," replied the manager. "There are all sorts of smelly things there."

I hurried to open the sauna door and pretended as if I had been outside the entire time. "I'd be happy to take our guests to Room 547," I said. I was hoping to continue making observations on what Charles had been saying J.S. knew about my parents.

"No, no," Frank or Ernest said. "You're needed here, concierge. By a strange coincidence there happens to be a chemist standing in the hallway who would be happy to escort these two gentlemen."

"Oh, all right!" Sir said, storming out of the sauna to where a figure stood dressed in a long, white coat and a surgical mask. Sir picked up his cigar so that a cloud of smoke was restored to his face and followed the chemist with Charles, leaving me alone with Frank or Ernest and the shorter figure, whoever it was.

"Be very careful with this," said either Frank or Ernest, giving me a stiff object. It was flat and wide, rolled into a thick tube. "When it's unrolled, the surface is very sticky—so sticky that anything it touches becomes trapped. Do you know what this is called?"

"Flypaper," I said, recalling a book I once read regarding the adventures of an exterminator. "Is the hotel having an insect problem?"

"Our problem is not with insects," the manager said. "It's with birds. This is birdpaper. I need you to attach one end to the windowsill of this room, and dangle the rest outside, over the pond. Can you guess why?"

"To trap birds," I said.

"You're obviously very well-read," said Ernest or Frank, his voice monotonous so that I couldn't tell whether he was delighted or repulsed by it. "So you know that birds can cause all sorts of problems. For instance, I've heard about a swarm of eagles that recently stole a great crowd of children. What do you think of that?"

I gasped. I knew that Ernest or Frank was referring to the great swarm of eagles who had kidnapped those Snow Scouts on Mount Fraught. My opinion was that it was horrible, however, I couldn't tell whether the manager shared my views. "I think it's remarkable," I said finally, deciding on a word that could be interpreted as either disgusted or fiendishly elated.

"That's a remarkable answer," replied either Frank or Ernest, and then the manager sighed thoughtfully. "Tell me," he said, "are you who I think you are?"

I blinked. I tried to determine a safe response. I wished I could confess to being Klaus Baudelaire if this man was indeed Frank or to deny it if I was before Ernest. However, those answers might not be safe.

"Of course I'm who you think I am," I said, trying to sound as if I was talking in code. "I'm a concierge."

"I see," said Frank or Ernest, as unfathomable as ever. "I'm grateful for your assistance, concierge. Not many people have the courage to help with a scheme like this. Though, I have one more request."

"What is that?" I asked.

"I have a lost little girl with me," he said, patting the spot where the smaller figure stood. "Would you bring her back to where she belongs? Preferably the rooftop."

"Of course," I said.

With that, the manager left and I was alone with the small girl. I made my way to the window and opened it. As soon as I did, the steam evaporated from the room. I performed the task given to me by Frank or Ernest and then, turned to face the small child. Except, she wasn't as small as I had originally thought. She was my height and she had light blonde hair; her blue eyes were wide and her small mouth was agape. I knew instantly who it was: Jane.

* * *

_**Jamie Murray**_

Klaus stared at me. I couldn't see his eyes through the dark tint of his sunglasses but the frown he wore beneath them told me that he wasn't too happy with me.

"Jane," he said, in a flat voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Same as you," I said, "I'm here to attend Thursday's meeting."

Klaus scowled at the ground.

"What is it?" I asked in a quiet but terse voice.

"I want to ask you to not follow us around anymore," Klaus said, "It's getting old."

"I didn't come here for you," I said, gritting my teeth so I wouldn't burst into tears. "In fact, I didn't expect you to be here."

"Why are you here then?" Klaus demanded. "Why were you with one of the managers of the Hotel Denouement?"

"It's none of your business," I said, averting my gaze. "You didn't have to talk to me you know. You could have just acted as if we really don't know each other. You're just a concierge and I'm a lost child. We are strangers, right? "

Klaus nodded. "That's right," he said. "Is Fiona nearby?"

"If you're looking for your girlfriend," I said, crossing my arms and gritting my teeth. "She's gone off with her brother. They abandoned us. I suppose it's not so different than what you did to me."

"I didn't abandon you Jane," Klaus said, "You abandoned us, remember? I remember that day now—the day of the lion show. I saw you. I watched as you gradually snuck up on Madame Lulu to push her into the pit._ You_ pushed her. _You_ betrayed us. But why Jane? How could you? Do you just _hate_ us for some reason?"

"Right," I said, tears began to well up in my eyes. "I hate you, Klaus. I hate you so much that when Count Olaf promised to leave you alone if I went willingly into his clutches, I did it. I hate you so much that every day that we're apart, I feel lost and more alone than ever. I hate you so much that when I thought you died in the caravan crash, I cried_ every_ day! I hate you so much that I stayed behind instead of going on the toboggan so I wouldn't endanger everyone else's life! I hate you so much that I memorized every line of that Robert Frost poem and every time the sun rises, I can't help but think of you! So before you start making assumptions, maybe you should know all of your facts!"

I turned and started to exit the sauna.

"That stuff doesn't matter," Klaus said as I opened the door. "What you did changed the way I look at you. You're not the person I thought you were."

"Hey," I said, whirling around, angrily, "don't judge me. You've done bad things too. And I never thought of myself as perfect in that way. You know it's not that easy to be the person you wish you were. Sometimes you make mistakes that you can't take back. I'm sorry if I don't meet your standards of perfection or whatever."

"I'm sorry, too," Klaus said, "but I never asked you to be perfect, Jane. I just hoped you especially would make better choices."

"It's not that simple," I muttered. "You don't even understand the whole story. You never even let me explain."

"I don't want an explanation," Klaus said, "I already know what happened. The hook-handed man told us and you never denied it."

"That's really how it's going to be?" I said, shaking my head in frustration. "You would honestly believe one of Count Olaf's associates over me? Unbelievable. That's really insulting."

"Then what?" Klaus said, angrily. "What is it that I'm not getting right? I didn't just listen to the hook-handed man, I saw you. Besides, you never actually denied it."

I shook my head and sighed in resignation. "Fine," I said, "believe what you want to believe, Klaus. But it doesn't matter anymore what we feel towards each other. We're no longer friends. In fact, we're less than that."

"What are you talking about?" Klaus asked.

I took a deep breath. "I'm saying that we're enemies," I said. "I joined Count Olaf."

Klaus's eyes widened briefly and then he blinked a few times. "I suppose that Robert Frost was right," he said, "nothing gold _can_ stay."

I shrugged, my eyes glistening with tears. "People change," I said, quietly. "Sometimes you lose things…I just thought perhaps villainy was something that I was always destined for. I've never fit in anywhere…and I've always been alone. Being in Olaf's troupe means that I'll have Esmé. She may not care for me in the way I would prefer but…perhaps I'll just have to settle. Maybe it's wrong but I don't have much of a choice. It's not as if it matters to you, anyways…we're strangers now. Maybe it's time that we went our separate ways."

"It's a shame," Klaus said so quietly that I almost didn't hear him, "that things had to turn out this way."

"Or maybe it was just fate," I said, brushing away a tear that had begun rolling down my cheek. Klaus's own eyes had begun to glisten with tears.

Klaus shook his head. "I can't believe it," he said. "But I suppose I should have anticipated it. That still doesn't explain why."

I sighed and reached into my pocket, pulling out my notebook. I finally knew what to do with it and I held it out to Klaus. "Here." I said, "This is my commonplace book. Take this and do what you wish with it. I've written down everything that has ever happened to me since the day I was expelled from my boarding school. It's not important for me to have it anymore because none of what happens to me from now on is worth remembering. I'm not sure anyone would want to read about the person I've become. I know I wouldn't."

"I don't want it," Klaus said.

"Take it!" I cried, more tears rolling down my cheek as I thrust the notebook into his hand. "Just take it okay? Read it if you want…Maybe someday you'll look through it and you won't think ill of me any longer…I don't want you to remember me for the wicked things I've done or the person I'm becoming." I paused, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Klaus. You're right. I ruined everything. So let's make this our final goodbye." I leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek. "Goodbye Klaus. Please…just forget about who I've become."

I turned to head back down the hall, toward the set of elevators.

"Goodbye, Jane," Klaus said, in a monotone voice.

"Goodbye," I mustered and then walked out of the room. I got to the elevator and pushed the button before I let myself sink to the floor and sob uncontrollably.

* * *

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**I'll update soooooon!**


	6. The Approaching Storm

**New Chapter! **

* * *

**Chapter Six: The Approaching Storm**

I wiped the tears away from my eyes and walked off the elevator, onto the rooftop where Esmé was looking worriedly around. When she saw me, coming towards her, she scowled, putting her hands on her hips. "Where in the world did you run off to?" Esmé growled. "I never gave you permission to leave." She paused and scowled again. "And you've changed! Just because you're on our side now, doesn't mean you can do whatever you want. If Olaf knew you snuck off, he'd be furious."

"I just had to—" I started.

"You look like you've been crying," Esmé said. "Did something happen?"

"N-no nothing," I said, "I was just thinking of my parents, that's all."

Esmé rolled her eyes. "Crying isn't going to make them come back," she said, "trust me, if it could, your mother_ would_ be alive."

I furrowed my eyebrows, looking at Esmé with sudden concern. I know I didn't like her for not treating me the way I wanted her to. But I couldn't stop myself from putting a comforting hand awkwardly on her arm.

Esmé scowled and brought her arm away from my hand. "I don't need your sympathy," Esmé said, "I told you something you should have already known."

"I just thought you needed some comfort," I said, "Besides, the Baudelaires, I've never had anyone to comfort me."

"I'll never understand you," Esmé said, "You're definitely going to need some work if you're going to be on our side. No one's going to comfort you anymore now that you're a villain, so get used to it."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't apologize either," Esmé said. "It makes you seem weak. Now enough with your boring chitchat," she said, "A fashionable woman like myself doesn't have time to listen. Now why don't you go swimming or something fun until evening comes?"

"I don't know how to swim," I reminded her. "And I don't have a swimsuit on."

"Well, now is your chance to learn," she said, trying to sound encouraging but I knew she was just trying to get rid of me. "Why don't you go back to the room and change? But you better not take long or I'll send Olaf to find you."

I sighed. "I'll try to make it fast," I muttered as I turned back for the elevator and pushed the button for the seventh floor. When I arrived at the room, I did as Esmé said and changed into that fashionable but uncomfortable bikini and put the sundress back on. I suppose it was better than wearing jeans in that heat.

As I made my way back towards the elevators, a door on the right side of the hall opened and a pair of hands reach out to grab me by my shirt, dragging me inside. Though the person seemed as if they were trying to be careful about not hurting me. Frightened, I tried to pull away and heaved a kick at whoever it was. The person cried out in pain as my foot connected with their leg.

"Ow!" the person cried again, "Stop struggling. It's only me. Monty Kensicle."

I gasped and whirled around to find myself facing a familiar face. It was Lemony Snicket or as the person called himself, Monty Kensicle.

I was anxious about being here with him. After all, the last time I saw him, he was disguised as my cab driver and overheard my conversation with Olaf about being one of his associates.

"Hello," I said, nervously.

"Hello Jane," Monty Kensicle replied, "how are you?"

"Not the best," I said. "I know why you've pulled me in here."

Monty nodded. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you one of Olaf's newest recruits?" Monty said, "Have you truly switched sides, Jane?"

I stared at him, unsure of my answer. "I don't know," I said softly. "I mean, I told Olaf I was and at one point I felt like I really did want to. But now I'm not so sure. Everything is just so confusing right now. Olaf thinks I'm on his side though."

"I wondered," Monty said, "I was worried you had been threatened. But why would you do it, Jane? What made you decide to join Olaf?"

I bit my lip. "Please don't hate me," I said. The last thing I wanted was for Monty Kensicle to loathe me too. "It's complicated. Olaf brought me into his 'lair' on the submarine and kept saying things to try to persuade me to join him. It was all so confusing and hard to think. I said no at first for obvious reasons…but then something happened that changed my mind."

"What's that?" Monty asked.

I sighed. "Count Olaf's associate with those nasty hooks told the Baudelaires that I was responsible for Madame Lulu's death," I said, tearing up a bit. "And now they think I'm a murderer. Klaus was so angry that he wouldn't even let me explain. He hates me. He told me we were no longer friends. I was scared. Then I saw him kiss Fiona. It was at that moment that I realized everything was permanently ruined. I wasn't sure what to do. Olaf noticed how upset I was and started saying all kinds of things to mess with my head. You have to understand that there was really no choice for me. If I stay with Olaf, maybe I will never truly be happy, but at least I won't be alone. At least I'll have Esmé."

"Why would the hook-handed man tell the Baudelaires that you murdered someone?" Monty asked. "Did you?"

"No, of course not," I said. I explained to Monty Kensicle about Olaf finding my notebook and reading about the Baudelaires being disguised as freaks. I described how Esmé convinced me that killing Madame Lulu was the only way to save them.

"Did you do it?" Monty inquired, looking very serious. "Did you kill Madame Lulu?"

I shook my head. "I couldn't do it," I said, staring at my feet. "Even if Olaf hadn't made an announcement to create all that chaos, I wouldn't have had the courage."

Monty frowned. "Don't let that woman make you think that murder is courageous," Monty said.

"I know," I said, "I suppose I'm not very brave, though. I wouldn't have done it if I was."

"You shouldn't let that one mistake define you," Monty said, "People do all sorts of bad things when they feel threatened. Sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do to protect the people you care about. I don't believe you're a murderer."

"Well, I'm not exactly noble, am I?" I muttered, bitterly.

"I'm sorry," I added after a moment, feeling guilty for putting my frustration on Monty Kensicle.

"It's okay," he said then he sighed. "Unfortunately the sad truth is that no one can be truly noble," he said, "but I suppose that's what makes us human."

"Then what's the point of trying?" I asked. "If it can never be achieved?"

"You've seen enough chaos and tragedy to last a lifetime," Monty said, "Imagine what the world would be like if no one made an effort to do the right thing."

I was silent. I couldn't imagine a world like that—I shuddered just thinking of it. After a moment, I couldn't help wondering, "Are you angry with me?" I said, timidly.

"No," Monty said. "I just want you to realize that this path is not for you. Do you want to be a villain, Jane?"

I thought about it for a moment and then shook my head. "No," I said, "I don't want to be the kind of person that Olaf is. But I'm afraid of being left behind. Also, Esmé told me about my mother. She was a villain too but when she switched sides, Esmé turned away from her completely. If I ever quit being a villain now, who knows what might happen. That frightening man with a beard but no hair said that terrible things happen to traitors. What if I quit and something really bad happens to me? I'm scared and I don't know what to do."

Monty pursed his lips in thought. "If only Thursday could come sooner," he said, "if things go the way they should, you'll never have to worry about any of that ever again." He sounded doubtful when he spoke, as if he didn't fully believe it himself.

"Maybe Olaf's right," I muttered, bitterly. "Maybe villainy really _is _my destiny, whether I like it or not."

"Jane," Monty said with a serious look on his face, "if everyone in this world thought that way, the entire world would be up in smoke and flames. V.F.D. is suffering from the loss of many former volunteers who have turned to villainy, like you did, or some have perished. Time is running out, but there might be a chance for us. You, the Baudelaires, the Quagmires, Melissa Sampson—all of you—are desperately needed to help save this organization so that evil will not prevail."

"I'm still scared," I said again, "I don't want to be a bad person."

Monty patted my head. "I know," he said, "No one wants to do villainous deeds unless they have an extreme lack of consideration for other people. You, Jane, are one of the noblest people I know."

"You're only saying that," I said, "Would a noble person almost murder someone?"

"Everyone makes mistakes, Jane," Monty said, "Just be glad that you stopped yourself before you could make an even bigger one."

"But how can I just go back?" I said. "I've done so many awful things and then I joined Count Olaf. How can I just walk away? The Baudelaires don't care about me after what they think I did. Not just that, Klaus knows I'm a villain now. You should have seen the look on his face. I've never seen him that upset about something I did. I don't have anywhere to go and I'm all alone."

Monty Kensicle gave me a sudden but subtle smile. "You remind me of someone I knew long ago," he said, "she was lost and confused just like you. But she made it and proved to everyone that anyone can change."

I scowled. "You just made that up," I muttered.

"What if I told you, that person was your mother?" Monty said. My eyebrows raised in surprise. "It's true. If your mother could do it, you can certainly go back Jane. Do it now before you're in too deep." He paused and then added. "I'm alone too, Jane and I do alright."

"But you're a grown up," I said, "I'm only a kid. Besides, it's far too late. I'm already in too deep. Olaf said that I have to prove myself in order for him to trust me. He wants me to shoot some crow with a harpoon as a part of his scheme to get the sugar bowl. I can't shoot a bird. I don't even know how to use a gun and I think Count Olaf expects for me to hit it. Besides, isn't killing a crow bad luck? I've had enough misfortune already than to have some curse. What should I do?"

Monty pursed his lips in thought. "Perhaps Olaf doesn't have to know that you're no longer on his side," Monty said.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "You want me to be a spy?"

"Something like that," Monty said. "Most volunteers spend their lives spying on our enemies. The Baudelaires are spies at this very moment, secretly making observations."

"But that won't get me out of having to kill something," I said, "even if it's just a bird."

Monty sighed. "You just might have to go through with it," he said, "I'm sorry to tell you this, but if switching back is as dangerous as you say it is, perhaps it's the only way. You'll need to gain Olaf's trust and killing the crow might do the trick."

"What about the sugar bowl?" I asked. "If I do it, Olaf will get his hands on the sugar bowl."

"I'll work on that," Monty said, "now that you've informed me of his plan, I could do something to keep it out of his greedy hands."

"I hope so," I said. "I wish I didn't have to do it though."

"I wish there was another way," Monty said, nodding. "Now you said that Olaf read your commonplace book. Did he read the entire thing?"

I nodded. "He knows about a lot of things now," I said, "He knows I stole that tape and that I was plotting with you and the Quagmires to send him to jail. Luckily, I never mentioned your true identity."

Monty looked worried. "I suppose that is a relief," he said, "but it can't be very good for either of us."

"He can't know that you're here," I said. "If he finds you, he'll probably do something very bad to you. He's already planning on unleashing that Medusoid Mycellium at Esmé's cocktail party."

"He has a sample of Medusoid Mycellium?" Monty said, his eyes wide.

I grimaced, nodding. "The fungus poisoned Sunny by growing inside of her diving helmet. She was cured in time with a dose of wasabi, but Count Olaf got a hold of the diving helmet. He's been plotting to use it as apart of his ultimate scheme to destroy the last safe place and V.F.D. once and for all."

"Thanks for the information," Monty Kensicle said, "I'll do my best to pass on the warning."

"You probably shouldn't stick around for the party," I said, "No one should be here. Perhaps it isn't such a good idea to have a meeting when so many people are here."

"We have nowhere else to go," Monty said, "This place is, as you've discovered, the last safe place. Everywhere else has been burned to ashes or destroyed in some way by our enemies. This has been going on since I was your age, perhaps even younger."

"How did the schism happen?" I asked.

"It's much too complicated to explain in one sitting," Monty said, "I'd have to write another series of books to explain why it occurred."

My eyes lit up. "So you've made progress on writing the books?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, "in fact, I've been following your paths since I last saw you at Heimlich Hospital. Though there may be some details missing that I hope you could fill in, particularly, the events that occurred in the sea. I was informed that the Baudelaires arrived here by submarine but it was much too difficult to track any of you while you were so far below."

"I don't know what happened to the Baudelaires before Count Olaf captured their submarine," I said, "And I don't have my notebook at the moment."

"Does Olaf still have it?" Monty asked.

"No," I said, "he finished reading it and when I joined he gave it back to me. I wasn't sure if I wanted it anymore because of my decision to switch sides. So I gave it to Klaus. I don't know if he'll read it, but if he does, I'm wondering if it might put things into perspective. He'll probably find out how I feel about him too. I guess it's about time. I just wish there had been an opportunity to tell him in person—before he kissed Fiona or assumed I had become a murderer."

"I'm sorry, Jane," Monty said, "but the Baudelaires are very bright. Klaus will understand sooner or later."

"I hope you're right," I said, "but even if he does find out…will that change the way he looks at me? What if he never liked me in that way? Any chance of us becoming friends again could be ruined."

"You don't know that," Monty said.

I sighed. "Well, whatever happens, I hope Olaf doesn't prevail," I said, "Maybe that's also why I should become a spy. I could try and sabotage his attempts. Perhaps I can stop him from releasing that deadly fungus and he really will be brought to justice."

"With the information you've given me," Monty said, "I just might be able to assist you. Could you try to describe what happened?"

"I can't stay too long," I said, "Esmé will come looking if I don't return soon. But I'll try to make it fast."

So as quickly as I could, I explained what had happened since I first arrived at the Hotel Denouement and all about the misery I encountered on the_ Carmelita_. I tried to stick to describing only the most important details.

"Thank you," Monty said as he looked up from his new green commonplace book after he had finished taking notes on what I had described. "Your account will be very helpful. If Thursday doesn't work out, I at least would like the world to know your story. I can expose the miserable lives you endured and hopefully change things for the better."

"Do you think it might help prove the Baudelaire's innocence too?" I asked.

Monty nodded. "It could," he said, "if people read them. Though I can't imagine who would want to read such a dreadful story."

"Me neither," I said and we were both silent for a moment.

"Can I ask you a favor?" I said, suddenly, as a thought occurred to me.

"Go on," Monty said.

"Well, if…things don't go the way they should," I said, "if I happen to permanently become a villain or something else happens that's just as terrible…do you think you could twist the story to give us a happy ending? Maybe you could pretend that Klaus forgave me, Olaf was sent to jail, and we all lived happily ever after?"

Monty looked at me sadly and then patted me on the head gently. "I wish I could," he said, "I wish with all my heart that you four children could spend the rest of your lives in bliss. But the world never rests and it's a cruel, dangerous place even without Olaf. I want whoever reads these books to know every inch of the truth. You deserve that much. No one will ever forget what this cold world did to you four."

I frowned in disappointment but I knew he was right. I sighed. "Thank you," I said, "for everything. I want you to know that your efforts are fully appreciated."

"Of course," Monty said. "Now, all we have to do, is try to make it through this coming storm."

It was silent for a moment as we both turned to stare glumly out the windows. I noticed the windows of his room didn't have those ugly curtains, which meant I could view the endless gloomy gray sea, stretching out menacingly before us. I shivered as I thought about the upcoming plan I would unfortunately have to take part in. The storm was just beginning and I wasn't sure if I would be brave enough to face it alone.

* * *

"That took you a very long time," Esmé said when I returned. "Do you remember what I told you?"

I raked my brain, trying to come up with a good excuse. "I just had to use the restroom and it was hard to get an elevator."

"I don't believe you," she said, "but I don't have time to worry about that. I have a party to plan. Now, are you really going to perform?"

"Am I allowed to perform?" I asked.

"Actually, I think that's a wonderful idea!" Esmé said, excitedly, "I won't have to spend money hiring anyone. You'll do it for free."

"Fine," I said, "but if I'm going to perform, I'm going to need to practice. I don't have the guitar with me anymore. Maybe I could play a piano if we can get one."

"I suppose I could take you to one of the ballrooms," Esmé said, "I've already looked through them and there's one with a stage and a piano that could work perfectly."

"Really?" I said, growing suddenly excited that I would get to sing soon. I needed something to ease my mind and I knew singing was the answer. "Can we go right now?"

Esmé pursed her lips. "Fine," she said, "but not for long. I still have things to do and I'll need to watch the skies when it gets dark."

So Esmé put on her own silver sundress, thankfully, and brought me down to the third floor where one of the ballrooms was located. I saw that there were already decorations set up from the lilies used as centerpieces on each table to the shimmering, gold banners hanging on the walls. Several decorations had a theme of shiny metallic colors to match Esmé's outfit. There was also a stage in which, as Esmé said, a piano was placed. It was a grand piano and I couldn't wait to play it.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Esmé said, "Get up there and practice or we're leaving."

I sighed and bounded up the stairs along the side of the stage to the piano. Esmé sat daintily down on one of the chairs and waited with expectance for me to begin. I had been so excited to perform and play the piano that I hadn't thought of which song I should sing.

I sat down at the piano and raked my brain for a song. After a moment, I found a song and began to play:

"_Just because I'm losing_

_Doesn't mean I'm lost_

_Doesn't mean I'll stop_

_Doesn't mean I would cross_

_Just because I'm hurting_

_Doesn't mean I'm hurt_

_Doesn't mean I didn't get_

_What I deserved_

_No better and no worse_

_I just got lost_

_Every river that I tried to cross_

_Every door I ever tried was locked_

_Ohhh and I'm..._

_Just waiting 'til the shine wears off_

_You might be a big fish_

_In a little pond_

_Doesn't mean you've won_

_'Cause along may come_

_A bigger one_

_And you'll be lost_

_Every river that you tried to cross_

_Every gun you ever held went off_

_Ohhh and I'm..._

_Just waiting until the firing stopped_

_Ohhh and I'm..._

_Just waiting 'til the shine wears off_

_Ohhh and I'm…_

_Just waiting 'til the shine wears off_

_Ohhh and I'm…_

_Just waiting 'til the shine wears off."_

I finished playing and glanced up at Esmé whose eyes were narrowed.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked. "Did it sound bad?"

"It was okay," Esmé said, wrinkling her nose, "though I don't particularly like that song. Try something else."

"Fine," I muttered, though I couldn't imagine why Esmé wouldn't like that song. I guess not everyone can love Coldplay as much as I do. For some reason her disapproval made me feel suddenly self-conscious about my singing and I was reminded of our conversation earlier, including my realization that nothing I could do would make Esmé change.

I stared down at the piano, letting my hands run along the keys and then glancing up, out at the empty room, besides Esmé, of course. Soon the room would be filled with people both good and bad. Every last one of them would perish whether it's through poison or flames. Could this truly be what Count Olaf and Esmé desired? How could they have no concern at all for the people whose lives they were taking?

My hands ran over the ivory and as if by performing that action, I would understand. Then it hit me. Count Olaf was probably alone too. As for Esmé, she probably used money as a way to replace something missing in her life. Clothes, money, and power made her blissful, distracting her from everything else that was truly important. The worst thing about villainous people was knowing that at some point in their lives, they were no different from everyone else. We're all human, as Monty had said, and we all make mistakes. We also all have needs, desires, hopes, and dreams. Anyone could be a villain. Even I could: I was alone too and I knew how cruel the world could be. I carried that hatred, that regret, and all that other pain in my heart everyday…

I understood now—why it was so easy for Esmé, Count Olaf, and all those other villainous people in the world to do treacherous deeds and not feel even the tiniest shred of remorse—because they had suffered too—they knew pain and anger and those emotions consumed their very souls throughout their lives, transforming them into these inhumane…_monsters_.

But I wasn't a monster. I think I always knew that. And I still had a chance to save myself from becoming like that. It seemed like the easy way out—to become a villain—however, it was also the most lonesome path. At least when I was a noble person, I could appreciate the good things in life. At least I knew what it was like to love. Then again, I also knew what it felt like to have my heartbroken. Sure, it was painful, but that feeling of having faith and concern for another person would never leave me. I wanted to find that again. I wanted to find a family. Money didn't mean anything to me without that.

I thought about what I had learned about my parents. My mother had been a villain just like Esmé and Olaf…but she then chose a different path and became noble. I thought about how afraid I was of changing sides and understood how terrified my mother must have felt. Although I wasn't happy knowing that my mother had done bad things, the past few days have made me realize that maybe she wasn't so different from me either. Olaf had said my mother was just as alone as I currently am when she joined him. perhaps my mother didn't know someone like Monty Kensicle to warn her of the dangers of that path. She certainly must not have had friends like the Baudelaires to help her understand that there is good in a world turned cold. I suppose that's what my father was to my mother. He was as good as the Baudelaires. Thinking of my mother, made me feel suddenly guilty. I had been so absorbed with my decision to become a villain and the Baudelaires thinking I was a murderer that I had let myself believe that my parents were as monstrous as Count Olaf. I didn't want to push away my family anymore or believe that about my parents. I didn't want to lose the Baudelaires. I realized that by becoming a villain, I was letting Olaf have his way. He would win if I became just as horrible as him. I didn't want that. I couldn't let Olaf prevail. So if spying would help me to find a way out, then I would have to follow through. But I didn't want to lose Esmé either. I didn't want to believe that it was impossible for her to change. And perhaps this was my chance to convince Esmé that maybe she _could_ find a way to care for _me_ and not for whom I was pretending to be:

"_My mother bought it secondhand from a silent movie star _

_It was out of tune but still I learned to play _

_And with each note we both would smile forgetting who we are _

_And all the pain would simply fly away_

_Something secondhand and broken still can make a pretty sound _

_Even if it doesn't have a place to live _

_Oh, the words were left unspoken when my Mama came around _

_But that Secondhand White Baby Grand still had something beautiful to give_

_Through missing keys and broken strings the music was our own _

_Until the day we said our last goodbyes _

_The baby grand was sent away _

_A child all alone, to pray somebody else would realize_

_That something secondhand and broken still can make a pretty sound _

_Even if it doesn't have a place to live."_

I felt tears forming in my eyes as I sang:

"_Oh, the words are still unspoken now that Mama's not around _

_But that Secondhand White Baby Grand still has something beautiful to give_

_For many years the music had to roam _

_Until we found a way to find a home _

_So now I wake up every day and see her standing there _

_Just waiting for a partner to compose_

_And I wish my mother still could hear that sound beyond compare _

_I'll play her song till everybody knows."_

I glanced up briefly, but in time to see Esmé hurrying out of the room, leaving me disappointed and all by myself again. But I wasn't finished my song yet.

"_That something secondhand and broken still can make a pretty sound _

_Don't we all deserve a family room to live? _

_Oh, the words can't stay unspoken until everyone has found _

_That Secondhand White Baby Grand that still has something beautiful to give _

_I still have something beautiful to give."_

I finished playing the song and looked up at where the audience would be—where Esmé should have been sitting. Although Esmé had left, I did find an audience after all. A girl stood near the back with long, black hair and a small, sly smile on her face that could only belong to one person: Melissa Sampson.

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**Review!**

**The songs are: **_**Lost**_** by Coldplay 3 and **_**Second Hand White Baby Grand**_** from Smash (Love that show and this song!) :)**


	7. Backwards

**New chapter! :) **

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**Chapter Seven: Backwards**

I stood up from the piano, startled by her appearance.

"Melissa?" I said, "What in the world?"

She hurried across the ballroom floor and climbed onto the stage.

"I knew if I followed the Dewey Decimal System, I would find you," Melissa said, still grinning, "Only you would be in here performing. Esmé made it easy to find you too. She seems to have stormed off somewhere and she looked upset. Did you say something? Not that I would treat you any different if you did."

"I was just singing," I said. "How did you get here?"

Melissa shrugged. "Same way you all did," she said, "someone brought me here."

"Who?" I asked. "How did you get out of the stream? Is Quigley with you?"

"Jeez, Jane, one question at a time," she said, "We found Kit Snicket and she brought us here. Quigley would be here too but his siblings sent for his help. Those eagles are attacking the self-sustaining hot air mobile home so he had to rescue them in this helicopter we stole. He should return by Thursday."

"Oh no," I said, remembering that the sinister duo had unleashed those eagles to the sky, ordered to attack Duncan and Isadora Quagmire.

"You should have seen how worried he was," Melissa said, "I don't have any siblings so I can't relate but I do know what it feels like to lose someone you love. Speaking of which, you need to get your butt out of this room and start focusing on what's important. Your moping about being a villain might fool Count Olaf and others but I'm not convinced."

"How do you—" I began, wondering how she knew.

"Monty Kensicle told me everything," she interrupted. Then her lips shaped into a frown. She placed a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry by the way…about the Baudelaires. But they'll come around. For now, we need to get on with our part of the plan before Count Olaf makes you do anything you'll regret." She leaned closer and lowered her voice. "You're spying, aren't you?"

I looked from Melissa to the piano and then back at her. After talking with Monty Kensicle, things seemed a little clearer and that I just might become a spy. Perhaps I couldn't take back what I've done but there was still a chance for redemption. Ever since Melissa defended me in front of Kate and Christina twice, attempted to help the Baudelaires escape from the angry mob at Heimlich Hospital, and guided Violet and Klaus to the V.F.D. headquarters, and helped rescue Sunny and I, I felt that I could trust her. She seemed to be a different person than she was when Violet first met her. She was proof that people could change. Something I wish I could have seen in Esmé. Besides, she seemed a lot less frightened about being on her own than I was. I wondered why that was. So it was because of Melissa that I finally gained the courage enough to agree to become independent of Count Olaf and his troupe. Esmé was right about one thing—Murray's were tough enough to make it through on their own accord.

"Of course," I said adding in a wink.

Melissa grinned slightly. "Well, let's teach those losers a lesson," she said. "In a few days, we'll all be safe."

She put the backpack on her shoulders down on the piano bench beside where I sat. I rose from it as she searched through her bag. Finally she pulled out a black dress with a white collar and short, white sleeves and a pair of black tights. She handed them to me, demanding that I put it on backstage.

I left to change behind the curtains and when I came out Melissa was wearing a matching outfit except hers had a white apron attached to her waist with a tie. She handed an apron to me.

"Why are we dressing up as maids?" I asked as she helped me tie it around my waist. When she was done she handed me a hair tie and a white headband and we both put ours up in matching tight buns.

"They're disguises," Melissa explained, "We're going to be doing a bit of sneaking around so we can't be recognized."

Then she thrust a pair of black shoes with a small heel. I put them on and wobbled a bit as they were slightly bigger.

"Sorry about that," Melissa said. "The disguise kit I stole didn't have a smaller size. It doesn't look too bad though."

When I was all settled, she got excited again. "Come on then," she said. She grabbed my arm and began to tow me along. I tried not to trip as Melissa came to a sudden stop in front of the doors.

"What exactly is our plan?" I asked, realizing that I had no clue where she was taking me.

"You'll find out soon enough," she said, "let's just say we're going to take back what they've stolen from us. Now, you go out first. Don't look back and go catch us an elevator. Make sure it's empty."

Melissa carefully opened the door and ushered me out into the hall. I was still confused, but I did as she said and got an empty elevator. I waited a few minutes, holding the elevator open. At last she arrived, slipping inside and trying to look nonchalant about it.

I let the doors close and Melissa pushed the button for the basement. I looked at her in confusion.

"Okay," I said, "please explain to me what we're doing."

Melissa bit her lip. "I can't say it aloud," she said, glancing around nervously. "Someone could overhear us."

"We're in an elevator," I said.

"Yes," Melissa said, "and anyone could have hidden a camera or have carved a hole to eavesdrop on conversations." She reached into her pocket and withdrew a commonplace book. Hers was a dark red and she opened it to a page. She showed it to me and I could see the words she had written there:

_Next Mission: Find JM and Rescue Recruits from Basement ASAP._

My eyes widened. "That's great," I said, "but how are we going to do that? Those terrible associates of Olaf's are probably guarding them. They're clever enough to keep them hidden."

"Then it's a good thing I have these," Melissa said, pulling a wad of keys from under her the shirt of her dress. "I admit," Melissa added, "it's an odd place to keep them, but these outfits didn't have any pockets."

"Why do you have so many?" I asked.

Melissa leaned in close to whisper in my ear. "I have every key to unlock any door," she said. "Unless it's locked with one of those Vernacularly Fastened Doors."

"Wow," I said. "I'm glad. At least we can do something to stop these villains from doing monstrous deeds."

"Monty Kensicle sent for a couple volunteers to help bring them somewhere safe until their parents can be tracked or suitable homes are found for those whose parents have already been lost."

"Good," I said, "So all we have to do is not get caught?"

"Exactly," Melissa said.

"But how will we get them out?" I asked. "The only exit is through the lobby."

"There's also a back entrance for employees," Melissa said, pointing to our uniforms. That's what these disguises are for."

The elevator reached the basement and the doors slid open. Melissa led the way down the empty hall and I followed closely behind, making sure there was no one coming.

I had glanced behind me as we were rounding a corner and my eyes widened when I saw a familiar face. Kevin. I knew the freaks were lurking around the hotel but I was never informed of where, besides Hugo, of course.

I gasped and whirled, expecting to see Melissa still there but she had disappeared. I looked around in confusion.

"Jane?" Kevin said as he approached. "What are you doing down here?" His strong hands grabbed my arms. Since his hands were equally dominant, any attempt to struggle was next to impossible. "You're supposed to be on the rooftop with Esmé or with Ernest. Not in the basement."

"I was only wandering," I said, "I wanted to see what it was like down here."

Kevin frowned. "I suppose Olaf can deal with that," he said, "let's get you to the rooftop. Esmé will be—"

"Well, well, well," a hoarse voice cut off Kevin in the middle of his sentence. Just the sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine and I turned nervously to face a tall, sinister-looking man with a beard but no hair—his eyes as dark as his heart. He peered down at me with a sly look in his eyes. The memory of that night he had stood over my crib came back to me and I shuddered. "It's little Jamie Murray."

"For now I'm Jane Rumary," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Of course," he said, "What are you wearing? A maid's outfit?"

I shrugged. "I thought I'd get used to wearing a disguise," I said.

"Well, aren't you learning quickly," he said. "I think there was a day long ago when I had a conversation with your mother over her decision to become one of us. Of course, that was long before she died. 'Like mother, like daughter,' isn't that right?"

"That's right," I said.

"We were just headed for the rooftop," Kevin said, starting to lead me away from the man with a beard but no hair. I wondered where Melissa had gone and whether she was safe. I hoped she would carry out the mission if I were unable to. "I found Jane down here when she should have been with Esmé Squalor. We'll just be going now."

"Give her to me," the man with a beard but no hair said, reaching to take hold of my arm. I had an urge to pull away but I was afraid of what would happen if I did.

Kevin looked uncertain. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," he said, and suddenly I was glad Kevin found me first. "Olaf gave me strict orders not to let her go with anyone but him, Esmé, Ernest, Colette, or Hugo."

He narrowed his eyes into slits. "I'm sure he'll understand," he said, "Just as you will understand that the girl will come with me because I say so, you ambidextrous freak!"

Kevin's eyes widened with fear.

"Please don't," I begged him. But I knew it was useless. Kevin let go of his grip on my arm and the man with a beard but hair roughly pulled me in the opposite direction of the elevator doors. His hands gripped both of my upperarms so I was forced to keep moving forward. I was being led down the corridor Melissa and I had been traveling down and I wondered if we were headed to the room in which the recruits were being kept. I turned out to be correct and the man with a beard but no hair unlocked the door to the room holding the recruits with a shiny silver key. He opened the door slowly and when it was slightly open, he shoved me inside.

The room was pitch black and I couldn't see a thing when the door shut behind us. It took my eyes a moment to adjust but when they did, I regretted opening them instantly. I remembered the recruits who had been rowing the _Carmelita_. They had looked weary and miserable. But the recruits in this room were in a condition ten times more horrifying, making me want to burst into tears and run away to the hotel room to never come out again. Their clothes were in tattered rags and large groups of kids sat huddled on the ground together. They were quite still and it took me a moment to realize that they had been tied together with ropes in groups. Their hands were only free to work at the machines in front of them. It was too dark to tell what it was the machines were for but that was the least of my concern. They looked so forlorn as they worked and when the man with a beard but no hair entered, they seized up with fear.

"Look around, Jamie," he said to me. "If you're so willing to join us, perhaps you can join our newest recruits in their hard labor."

"Please, sir," I said in fear. "I—"

"Quiet," he growled. "It wasn't a question. But come with me."

He continued to guide me through the room to another door. He swung it open and I was brought into another dark room filled with groups of supplies from brooms to boxes of rubberbands. He closed the door behind us again, with a click as it locked.

I worriedly turned around to face the man with a beard with no hair as he had let go of my arms.

"What are you doing?" I said as I realized I was trapped alone in a room with him.

A grin appeared on his face and he scratched his beard thoughtfully. "You know," he said, taking a step towards me. "I remember the first time I ever laid eyes on you. You were just a tiny little thing. I could have snapped your neck like a toothpick and you would have been dead."

"I think I remember," I said. I began to take a few steps back. "I remember seeing someone standing over my crib. Was that you?"

He continued to move closer, stalking me like a wolf. "I nearly got you too," he said, "if it wasn't for your stupid mother."

"My mother wasn't stupid," I said in defense even though I knew it was useless because he probably couldn't care less about what I had to say.

He laughed wickedly. "You foolish child," he said, "You're just as stupid as your mother. If you were smart, you would have taken advantage of the opportunity I gave you to escape. If your mother was smart, perhaps she would have avoided her tragic death."

I continued to back up and then found that I couldn't back up any farther. Quickly, I looked for a way past him to possibly escape. I took my chance and tried to rush past him, but he caught my arm and threw me back against the wall. His hands pinned me there so I couldn't move and his face came down so his mouth was inches from my own. I turned my head away, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Get away," I said, trying to sound brave.

My vision flashed and I found myself looking at the beady eyes of the bald man as he pinned me to the wall of the hospital room. I shuddered violently and I was back to reality. I couldn't believe this was happening again.

"Your mother was just like you," he said, "Often her bravery got her into all sorts of trouble and she was a traitor. I think I already mentioned that bad things can happen to traitors. You're too easy. You're just so weak and defenseless."

"Please let go of me," I said in a small voice.

His grip tightened on my arms and I whimpered.

"My comrade tried to kill you a few times," he said, "but she never did succeed. Your funny little games won't save you this time. You're going to meet the same deadly end that your mother did."

I screamed as loud as I could but he turned his head so his mouth was crashing onto mine and I tried to knee him the way I did with the bald man but he let out an angry roar and shoved me to the ground. He was on top of me and continued to kiss me, his breath tasting like smoke and his beard feeling rough against my skin. I kept trying to push him away and scream and fight as hard as I could. But nothing I did could stop him. I wasn't strong enough. I was too weak.

He tried to force my lips to part but I bit down on his tongue, cringing as I did. He yelped in pain and pulled back, his hands gripped my face and he bashed my head against the concrete beneath me. It hurt like hell and I screamed. He laughed evilly and continued to kiss me, his hands pulling at my clothes, aggressively. My mind flashed with images from when the bald man had taken his place.

This was it. This was how my life would end. I'd never live to see Klaus look me in the eyes again or to eat another meal prepared by Sunny. Never again would I beam as I watched Violet invent something. I'd never get to see Esmé become the person I always hoped she would be. I felt tears pouring down my face. All my life I had so many terrible things happen. But I always believed there would be a day when I found myself truly happy. I suppose I couldn't have everything I wanted. I would just have to settle with the memories of happiness that I had.

There was a loud thud.

"Get off of her!" a voice I recognized as Melissa's screeched at him, and I could see her clawing at his back.

In one swift motion, he got off up and knocked Melissa to the ground, his eyes flashing dangerously. I lay motionless in the same spot, my heart aching.

"You again," he growled at Melissa and then heaved a kick at her stomach. "I can deal with both of you. You can be the first to go though. You'll both be dead by the time I'm through."

He aimed a kick at her face and Melissa turned her head but his foot still connected with her cheek, making her wince and cry out in pain. He continued to kick her and I was reminded of all those times Olaf had done that to me.

I still couldn't bring myself to move. I didn't want to move off of this floor. I didn't want to have to face another day of this. A tear rolled down my cheek. I shuddered and froze with fear as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a knife, like the one Olaf had threatened me with once. I trembled, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, my mind flashed and I was brought back to that dreadful moment when I had watched Olaf murder Jacques. I could still see his pale body lying on the cold, stone floor. The image changed and I was watching as the bald man was ripped to shreds by those monstrous lions. I shuddered. No. Not again. I couldn't let another person die.

I shuddered again, taking a deep breath and trying to recollect my courage as I watched the man with a beard but no hair standing over Melissa, with murderous intentions. He brought the knife down but Melissa caught his wrist with her hand, trying to keep knife away from her and turn it towards the man with a beard but no hair. Quickly, I looked around and my eyes settled on a hammer not to far from where I lay. I took another deep breath and reached out my hand until it closed around the hammer.

"Nighty, night you impudent girl!" he hollered.

"No!" I cried and lunged forward, swinging the hammer to hit him on the back where his spine was, causing him to drop the knife. With wide eyes, I stumbled back as he whirled and threw a hand forward, grabbing me by the hair. "Ouch! Let go!" Still gripping my hair tightly, he hurled me at a wall of supplies. I hit my head hard against a shelf and the man with a beard but no hair aimed a kick at my face, hitting me in the eye. I cried out in pain.

"That's right, Jamie," he said, "No one can save you now. Not even your pathetic _friend_."

He moved on top of me again, and his mouth was back on mine but now his hands began to grope me. I shuddered and tried desperately to scream.

Suddenly there was a loud bang and the man with a beard but no hair flew back, all the way across the room, and fell against the wall near the door, crumpling to the ground. He didn't move and Melissa stood breathing heavily, and sharply as if she were trying to keep it together.

"I've always wanted to do that," she whispered as she glanced at me. She came slowly over and reached out a hand to help me up off of the floor. "He went out like a light."

Abruptly, I threw myself into her arms and began to sob. Melissa smoothed the back of my hair. I could hear her own whimpers as she too wept.

"It's alright, Jane," she said, trying to keep her voice steady but I could feel, like me, she was shaking and was near falling to pieces. "It's alright. You're safe. We're safe."

"Oh, Melissa," I sobbed, my knees wobbly. "I'm scared. I don't want to go through _any _of this anymore. It's just so awful."

Melissa pulled away, her face red and wet with tears. "I know," Melissa said, sadly. "But you'll be okay. We'll make it through this, I promise. We have each other's backs, okay? Let's get out of here before he wakes up."

I nodded and Melissa leaned in to whisper. "Careful," Melissa said, as we slowly moved forward. "He might lunge." She made me halt and picked up the knife and a baseball bat. She gave me the bat. "I'm going to check to see if he's unconscious. If you notice any movement or he does lunge, don't hesitate and swing. Got it?"

I nodded, trying to steady my trembling hands as I clutched the bat as if I were going to hit a baseball.

Melissa slowly crept towards him and sure enough just as she took another step he lunged forward and grabbed her ankles but I was ready with the bat, squeezed my eyes shut, and swung. The bat impacted with something hard and when I opened my eyes I could see that I had hit him in the head. Now, his head hung forward, unconscious.

Melissa stood stock still, her eyebrows furrowed with anguish as she looked from the unconscious monster to me.

"He went out like a light," she said and a tear escaped from her eyes, down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, looking embarrassed that she was crying. I felt bad because I knew it must be hard for Melissa to keep it together for the both of us. I reached out and put a hand on her trembling shoulder. Usually, she seemed like she was tough enough to handle anything but I realized that maybe, she's really just as terrified as everyone else.

"Let's go," I said.

Melissa nodded and held onto each other as we left the room. Melissa made sure to lock the door behind us, hoping it would keep him away from us until our job was at least done.

"Now we have to help the others, okay?" Melissa said trying to keep her voice steady as if everything would be okay. "They need us." But the truth was it wasn't going to be okay. Nothing would ever be okay. Nothing ever has been okay since I lost my parents.

So Melissa and I completed our mission. We successfully got the children out of the hotel and they were loaded off in groups to a white van belonging to the volunteer Monty Kensicle had called that would take them somewhere safe. For now.

It was a good thing the hotel was so crowded so no one really took notice of several groups of children passing through.

Melissa and I stood outside of the staff only entrance, still gripping each other tightly, afraid of letting go.

I felt tears roll down my cheeks as we stood there, long after we knew the kids were safely in the van and gone. I leaned my head on her shoulder as I continued to cry softly.

"You should go," Melissa said, "Olaf or Esmé can't know what we did or that you've been with me."

I nodded, but I still refused to move. Finally, Melissa gently removed my arms from around her.

"I'll see you around," she said, "I'll certainly be there for Thursday's meeting."

She started back inside.

"Wait," I said, before she could leave.  
"Yes?" Melissa asked.

"Thanks," I said.

Melissa nodded. "Thank you." She began to turn but then stopped herself. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a book entitled _Through the Looking Glass_ by Lewis Carroll. "Monty Kensicle told me to give this book to you. He said it was important that you have it. I'm not sure why."

I took the book from her hands, noticing as I took it how pale her skin was in comparison to mine. I hid the book under my shirt so I could avoid any questions from Olaf or Esmé.

Melissa blinked. "I'm sorry," she said, after a moment, "This was my fault. I shouldn't have let you do this. I should have just done it alone."

"No," I said, "It's not your fault. I'm fine. You stopped him before anything truly bad could happen." I paused and watched Melissa averting her eyes, her fists clenched. "You don't always have to be the tough one. It's okay to be upset."

I reached out and pulled her into a hug. She squeezed me back tightly and I could see she was crying again.

"It's hard to keep it together," Melissa said, "I know I might act like I can handle this stuff. But I'm just as alone and lost as you are." She sighed. "Just stay strong Jane and I will too."

I nodded. "I can't make any promises," I said, "but I'll try."

"Bye," Melissa said. "See you soon. Hopefully, we'll all be freed from the treachery of these terrible people on Thursday."

I nodded. "I hope so too," I said. "Do you think we could say goodbye at the elevators? I don't want to have to wander around on my own."

"I wish we could," Melissa said, "but someone might get suspicious."

I nodded. "Well, bye."

"Bye," she said, "Be careful. Find Esmé. I know you won't exactly be alright with Count Olaf and Esmé, but at least you'll be safe from worse dangers."

I waved slightly and she disappeared back through the doors. I glanced up at the sky, which seemed to darken as clouds blocked out the afternoon sun. I noticed the Entrance sign of the staff door was written backwards just like the rest of the signs and the entire building. At the moment, it felt like my entire world was backwards and everything was just so wrong. I took a shuddering breath and collapsed onto the ground, heaving with heart-wrenching sobs.

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**Review!**

**I'll update soon!**

** Also i skipped Sunny's POV but really all that changes is that i'm making this particular lock require answers to four questions instead of three.**


	8. Truth

**New chapter! :)**

**For those of you who live in eastern America like me, i hope you survived the 'wonderful' Hurricane Sandy lol! My power and internet was out all last week and tomorrow will be the first day back at school after the storm. But luckily i had time to write so hopefully i can get the next chapter up soon! **

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**Chapter Eight: Truth**

**_Jamie Murray_**

I waited a moment and then I went through the doors, hurrying across the lobby to the first empty elevator I could get. I began to shake again and my hands fumbled to push the right button and then I was on my way to the seventh floor. I wasn't in the mood to go to the rooftop. I wanted to sit in the room with the door securely locked and never emerge except to get out of this hotel.

I reached the seventh floor and scurried down the hall to the room, rushing inside and locking the door behind me with the extra bolt. My heart raced, the blood pounding in my ears. I curled up on the bed, clutching the book close to me and hoping the man with a beard but no hair was still unconscious and not hunting me down right now. He knew where my room was and he could probably convince Ernest to give him a copy of the key.

Tears poured down my face as I feared the worst. My eye was still swollen shut and a sickly dark purple. It made crying hurt, causing me to cry even harder. All I wanted was to be with the Baudelaires right now. If I was with them, I would feel safe even if it was merely an illusion. I just needed some comfort.

I shuddered, holding myself tighter so I wouldn't fall apart.

Suddenly, the doorknob turned and I sat up, my body going rigid. Oh no, oh no, this was it. He was coming and I had nowhere left to hide. I reached for the nearest object that I could use as a weapon and found the lamp, preparing to whack him with it if he came near.

But the door opened further, caught by the bolt. There was a cry of frustration, the voice sounding raspy and grumbling.

"Are you in there, Blondie?" he said, pushing on the door as if he could get it to open somehow.

I sighed in relief—well I was relieved that it wasn't the man with a beard but no hair—but Olaf's presence was still unsettling as always.

"It's uh…it's me—Jamie," I said, putting down the lamp because he had managed to stick his head in the doorway so he could see me and looked at me oddly.

"Don't just stand there," he growled, "unlock this door immediately."

I did as I was told and Olaf strode inside my room, closing the door behind him. Then suddenly, he grabbed my shoulders, pushing me back against the wall, and his face was inches from mine with shiny eyes. Frightened, I threw my hands up to try and protect my face.

"What were you thinking?" he snarled, his hands tightening on my shoulders and shaking me as if I were a rag doll. I cowered, my body trembling as panic filled me.

"P-pl-ease," I begged. "P-pl-ease s-stop. D-don't h-hurt m-me."

He stopped shaking me but still gripped my shoulders tightly.

"Then explain to me what you were doing wandering around the hotel on your own when I remember warning you not to do that? What were you thinking?"

"I—" I tried to explain.

"You weren't thinking!" Olaf growled, "That ambidextrous freak told me that he saw you in the basement when you should have been on the rooftop with Esmé! He mentioned then that a certain associate of mine grabbed you and judging by your black eye and the terror reflected in them, that something _terrible_ must have happened, correct?"

"I-I'm fine," I said, averting my eyes. I did not want to express what had happened to me to Olaf. Besides, that would mean telling him about Melissa and setting the recruits free.

"You are not _fine_," Olaf growled. "I want to know this instant why you were there and what happened or both your eyes will match and you'll go back to being my orphan prisoner."

I sighed. "Okay fine I'll tell you but you have to let go of me first," I said. Olaf let go of my shoulders and I walked over to sit on the bed, picking up _Through the Looking Glass _as if by holding it, I would suddenly know what to say. Olaf looked impatient as he waited for me to speak.

"I wasn't down there because I was doing anything…that would potentially harm your plans or anything," I lied, as best as I could. It was a good thing I knew how to act. "I was bored out of my mind sitting on the rooftop, waiting for an opportunity to do something villainous—"

"I thought I told you that you're going to shoot down the crow tonight," Olaf interrupted.

"That's true," I said, "but I wanted to help in some way to defeat our enemies because I learned that the Baudelaires were in the hotel somewhere."

His eyes shone brightly. "Where are they?" he said, "Did you find them?"

"No," I lied again, "but that's why I'm wearing this disguise. I thought I could make observations."

"Well aren't you learning fast," Olaf said, looking triumphant and patting my head. "I always knew you would be a great addition to my troupe. Better than Carmelita. All she does is whine."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," I muttered which made him glower at me.

I quickly changed the topic. "So I was doing observations in the basement because I learned that the sugar bowl would be landing in the laundry room once the bird lands on the bird paper."

"Who told you this?" Olaf demanded.

"Ernest Denouement," I said, which is partially true. "He's also the one who told me about the Baudelaires being here."

"Alright, now," Olaf said, "Did you make any observations?"

I blinked, unsure of what to tell him. I remembered seeing a door that had a device on it that looked like a giant, mechanical spider. I explained that to Olaf.

"It's probably on the laundry room door," Olaf said, "Those volunteers are on to us. Luckily, I know just how to get the code from them. Now what else?"

I sighed and then decided to tell him the recruits were gone but I changed it up a bit. I knew it was better since he would probably discover their absence eventually. I didn't want him to think I did it. At least not until I was sure he couldn't hurt me. "The recruits are gone," I said, "the man with a beard but no hair was upset because when he brought me to the room, he found it empty."

Olaf's eyes widened. "They're gone?" Olaf hissed. "Where?"

I shrugged. "I don't know," I said, "and don't ask. He gets really upset if you do."

Olaf narrowed his eyes at me. "What happened to_ you_?" he asked. "When you went off with that man, what did he do to you?"

"Nothing," I insisted. "He just showed me the room with the recruits."

"You can't fool me," Olaf said, "How did you get that black eye?"

I shook my head. "I just tripped," I said, "I'm really clumsy."

"You also have a bump on your head," Olaf pointed out. "I'm smart enough to know that you couldn't possibly fall and damage both your eye and the back of your head."

"Who do you think you are?" I muttered. "Sherlock Holmes? I told you I fell. Twice."

"You're not that clumsy," he said, "Fortunately, you seem to have good hand-eye coordination. Most of the time anyway."

"Carmelita doesn't have any," I said, trying to change the subject. "She's a ball-playing cowboy superhero soldier pirate yet she's far from athletic or heroic or western or brave."

"Don't change the subject," Olaf grumbled, "Tell me what he did to you. Where is he right now?"

"Why do you care?" I spat a little harshly, making Olaf raise his eyebrows at me. I sighed. "It's not important—at least not to you, okay? Can you please just leave me alone?"

"Tell me," Olaf growled, grabbing my shoulders and gripping them tightly. "Perhaps I can help you or if you don't, I can make sure to give you another injury." He dug his nails into the skin on my shoulders.

"Okay," I said, "I'll tell you, just let go!"

He did finally and I rubbed my shoulders. I looked up at Count Olaf and my forehead scrunched up. "I still don't understand…" I trailed off, "why these things keep happening to me. First my parents are killed, then Jacques Snicket is killed, then your bald associate…well you probably already know what happened, and then I have to watch those lions rip his body to shreds and I can't do anything to stop it." Tears poured down my face, falling into my lap. "And now this…sure it could have been worse and your associate with the beard but no hair might have gotten away with_ it_. But it's still hard. I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to face all of this anymore."

"Yes," Olaf said, "I do know what happened with my bald associate. But I must say you had it coming after you caused us so much trouble misbehaving."

"Don't say that," I nearly spat again. I knew it shouldn't matter what he thought because he was a wicked man but I didn't like to hear him talk as if it was my fault. "It's not my fault that it happened. So don't say that."

"Be careful how you speak to me, Blondie," he said, "especially if you want to stay on my good side. By that I mean as my henchwoman. That's the closest you'll ever get to being treated better than a miserable orphan prisoner. You should consider yourself lucky that you're with me and not working for my associates."

I frowned but didn't reply.

"What happened to my associate?" Olaf asked after a moment.

"I knocked him unconscious," I said nervously, "and he's locked in the storage room in the basement."

"Well," the villain said, "now, I have to go down to the basement and release him from the storage room."

"No!" I cried, desperately. "Please don't! He'll come for me! He'll find me and this time I'm not sure I'll be as lucky. Please, please. I'll do anything!"

Olaf raised his eyebrows. "Anything?" he said, his eyes growing shiny.

I nodded, uneasily.

"Alright then," he said, "I won't promise not to let him out, but I can keep him away from you."

"Really?" I said, "You would do that?"

"Of course," he said but his eyes shone brightly as if he were telling a joke that only he found funny, "I know how precious a child's innocence is and it would be tragic if it were stolen from a poor, helpless orphan like yourself. You don't want it to happen to you, is that correct?"

"Correct," I said firmly.

"There's just something I want to ask of you," Olaf said, his eyes shining brighter and brighter.

"What's that?" I asked, hesitantly.

"You have to do whatever I say," he said, "If I ask you to do something, then you'd better be a good henchwoman and do it with no questions asked." Then he leaned in close to my face so I could smell his revolting breath. "If I find out you've been lying about anything or are trying to foil my plans, then my associates can have you."

"But if you give me to your associates," I said because I was terrified and looking for a way out, "you won't get my fortune."

"Oh, I'm only going to give you to my associates long enough so one in particular can finish what he started," Olaf said giving me a wicked smile. "And I'll make sure you won't be able to escape next time."

I shuddered.

"Now," Olaf said, "do we have a deal?"

My lip quivered and I wished I hadn't told him the truth.

"Do we, Blondie?" he said, raising his eyebrow.

Reluctantly, I nodded.

"Yes," I said in defeat.

"It shouldn't be too much to ask," Olaf said, "since you've already agreed to be my henchwoman. I just thought a little enforcement might encourage your unfaltering loyalty to me. I've always loved the idea of Fascism. Now is there anything you wish to tell me? If you tell me now, I won't hold it against you."

I thought about Melissa Sampson, the Baudelaires, and Monty Kensicle. If I uttered a word about either of them, I would be putting their lives in danger as well as the rest of the organization. It would be selfish to tell Olaf what I knew.

"I don't have anything to tell you," I said at last.

Olaf narrowed his eyes at me as if he were skeptical. "Not even one thing?" he said, "What about that book you're holding?" He snatched the book from my grasp and looked at the title. "_Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There?_ Where did you find this?"

"I found it in the storage room where I was attacked," I thought quickly. "I thought it might give me comfort to read it."

"I should be taking it away from you," Olaf said, "since my henchwomen aren't supposed to read books but I don't suppose one book will hurt."

He gave it back to me.

"Now," he said, "later tonight you're going to shoot down a certain crow, correct?"

I swallowed but I nodded.

"Correct?" Olaf said, pointing a filthy finger at his ear.

"Yes," I said.

"Now, I'm not saying that you have to hit the crow," he said, "I do realize you've had no practice. But that's why I'll be there to watch. I'll make sure you're aiming right but as I mentioned earlier, I'm sure you'll be able to manage on your own."

I was silent but nodded, sadly. My heart ached as I yearned to leave all this misery and suffering behind. I wanted to runaway from it all and hide away. But I knew it was no use. Misery always has a way of finding you. Running away wouldn't do anything.

There was a knock on the door and I stiffened. Olaf let go of me and went to go answer it. Esmé came inside the room, looking frantic and then her eyes widened when she saw me.

"Oh, thank goodness," Esmé cried, trying to sound nonchalant but I could tell she was relieved to see that I was in one piece. "Jamie, where have you been?"

"She was making observations," Olaf said, "the orphan has picked up some skills and disguised herself as a maid to look for ways to defeat our enemies. I discovered that the Baudelaires are here too."

"Oh really?" Esmé said, "How smashing?" She came over and pushed my hair back. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend that she was my mother, tuning out her words but hearing the hum of her voice and her hand on my head. I opened my eyes and she was peering at me with a curious expression. "Don't fall asleep. It's not even night and we have lots to do this evening."

"That's right," Olaf said with another wicked smile. "You've got a crow to shoot so we can get the sugar bowl."

"But what happened with the bearded associate?" Esmé asked. "Kevin seemed alarmed. Did he give you that black eye, dear?"

I nodded. "He hurt me," I said, sadly. "But I'll be okay. I'm fine."

Esmé frowned as if she wasn't convinced but didn't press on the matter. "Well, I hope so," she said, "We need you, darling. You're one of our precious little girls. It would be tragic if something bad happened to you. But whatever happened, I know you'll make it through. You're a Murray and I already told you that Murray's are tough."

I nodded, feeling like I wanted to burst into tears right in front of them but I bit my lip.

"Do you think I could just be alone for a while?" I asked, mostly Esmé. "I'm not feeling up to being on the rooftop. I'll come back when it's time to shoot the crow. I promise I'll stay right here until then. I'm not going anywhere on my own after that. You can come and get me when it's time."

Esmé looked at Olaf who was scowling at me. Finally, he sighed. "Fine," he said, "stay here. But remember our little deal. And if you do wander around and run into danger, I won't be here next time to help you. You're on your own."

I nodded, not pointing out that he didn't do much to help me this time either. Esmé patted me on the head endearingly and followed Olaf out of the room.

I shifted on the bed until I was more comfortable. I glanced sadly down at the book in my hands, slowly I let it slide out of my hands, watching glumly as it fell to the floor.

* * *

**_Klaus Baudelaire_**

After our earlier concierge tasks, the rest of the day was spent in the lobby. Violet and Sunny went around helping guests with whatever they needed. As for me, I stayed behind the desk, with Jane's notebook open on my lap. I told Violet and Sunny about it so they decided to let me read it while they performed the concierge tasks. It was a long journal since it described nearly everything that had happened to us since Jane left her boarding school. I knew I wouldn't finish it so I skipped the parts that I already knew about. I jumped to the New York Boarding School first. I secretly always wanted to know why Jane had liked Connor so much. As I was reading about Jane's first time hanging out with Christina and Kate, I began to feel guilty about reading it. It was Jane's personal thoughts and it felt wrong to intrude. But she did give it to me and I could tell that she really wanted me to read it. I wanted to read it. I wanted to understand what had happened to Jane and how she could turn to villainy. It wouldn't have mattered to me but the look she had given me when she had said goodbye broke my heart. Maybe I was wrong and I should have given her the chance to explain. Perhaps her journal would be a substitute.

I turned back to the journal with an open mind. I would try not to judge her too harshly until I had read everything important. My eyes scanned the journal until I got to where I had left off:

_We continued to talk as they finished with my hair. Then, it was Christina and afterwards, Kate's turn to have their hair done. I mostly watched since I didn't feel comfortable doing much other than spraying hairspray. It would be horrific if I accidentally burned their hair. I'd never actually used a straightener before._

_Soon we were applying each other's make up while talking about our day._

_"Have you seen anyone who you like?" Christina asked as we decorated our nails with pink OPI nail polish. We all got the same on our fingers to match each other. I painted my toes red. I was just waiting for them to dry._

_I felt my face turn slightly red._

_Kate gasped. "You do like someone," she said, eagerly, "who is it?"_

_"Um…no one," I mumbled._

_"Oh, come on, Janie," Christina urged, "we won't tell."_

_"Promise," Kate said._

_I pursed my lips. I wanted to tell them the truth. I wanted to say that I liked Klaus but…what if he found out? We were just friends. So I went with the first name that came to my mind._

_"Um…Connor…"_

_"Connor Samuels?" Christina said, excitedly._

_"Oh my gosh, Janie," Kate said, "you should have said something earlier. We would have put in a good word for you."_

_"Please don't," I said, "I don't want him to find out."_

_"What if you went with him to the dance?" Kate said, giddily, "You guys would look adorable together. Especially now."_

_I blushed. "Thanks. There's a dance?"_

_"No one told you yet?" Christina asked, surprised, "There's an annual fifth grade winter dance. It's next weekend and it's totally going to be awesome."_

_"We should totally try to get Connor to ask you," Kate said, "who knows, he might already like you. You probably just have to let him know, in a subtle way, that you like him. Have you ever talked to him?"_

_"Sort of," I said, "today at the audition he talked to me and yesterday too."_

_They beamed._

_"Oh my gosh!" Christina cried, "Janie is going to go with Connor Samuels!"_

_I giggled nervously. "I've never been asked to anything before. Actually, I've never been to a dance before."_

_They exchanged glances._

_"Don't worry," Christina said, "that's why you have us. We'll help you."_

_"Totally," Kate said, as she added a second coat of blue nail polish to her toes. "We'll find you something really cute to wear."_

_"How can you be sure that he's going to ask me?" I asked, "Just because he talks to me can't mean anything."_

_"That's another reason why you have us," Kate said, "we're really good friends with Connor and we could ask him what he thinks of you."_

_"Um…okay," I said, "please be subtle about it, though."_

_I liked how enthusiastic they were about Connor asking me to the dance. I thought Connor was handsome and he's probably athletic. He's probably that typical boy in chick flicks that the main girl has a secret crush on. But as handsome and charming as he was…there was only one boy who I wanted to go with to the dance. Klaus. I'd never be able to tell anyone that, though. So it was best to pretend to like Connor. It couldn't hurt. And he just might like me back, though I really doubted it._

_I closed my mind to my thoughts about Klaus and continued to listen to my friends gush about Connor Samuels._

I frowned, my eyebrows furrowing as I finished reading it. Jane…liked me. So it was true. I had to read more now. I read on about the ultimatum Count Olaf gave Jane and how she reluctantly agreed to help him with his scheme to kidnap her all because he threatened my siblings and I. I got to the Company show and my heart skipped a beat while I read about Jane seeing my performance. She did see me sing _Open Arms_ for her. Did she know how I felt about her? Why didn't she say anything?

I continued to read all through Jane's time spent in Olaf's clutches, through our experience at Prufrock Prep, and the Squalor's. Everything I read made it clear to me more and more that Jane shared my feelings and I wasn't alone. It made the thought of possibly losing her forever hurt even more. Finally I read how Jane spent her time while my siblings and I were at the Village of Fowl Devotees. I was filled with anger when I read about what Count Olaf had done to Jane when she snuck into his tower. I was curious when I read about the dream she had had about that magical castle and the Spirit flying towards it. I burst into tears when I read about Jane's encounter with Jacques and having to watch as Count Olaf ended his life. I read with interest, Jane's discovery of her true identity and her real parents. I smiled as I read and recalled the night we spent sipping cold alphabet soup and finding solace in each other's company.

Again, I was enraged and filled with anguish as I read about what the bald man had almost done to Jane, at the hospital and at the carnival. At last, I reached the part when Olaf stole Jane's notebook and her desperate pleas made my heart ache. I read about the letter that had been addressed to Jane from an unknown person and wondered who it could be. I read the events leading up to the lion show how torn Jane was over the choice to let us die or to kill Madame Lulu. I understood as I read it her fear and concern for our safety. But she didn't go through with it. Jane didn't kill Madame Lulu. That filled me with a great sense of relief, knowing that she had stopped. I continued reading and more tears fell from my eyes when I read about the bald man's horrific death. It amazed me that after everything the bald man had done to us, Jane still tried to save him. It made me fall for her over again.

I resumed reading, feeling sorry for Jane when she had thought Violet and I died. She was terribly upset but she still chose to remain strong, taking care of Sunny. I found the passage when she saw me on the mountain top:

_I watched as the two Baudelaires, Quigley, and Melissa removed their masks. I couldn't help beaming, despite the malicious scheme of the sinister duo and Carmelita Spats's presence. I had known Klaus was alive since Violet told me, but seeing him standing there made it seem all the more real. He really had come for me._

_I slipped out of Olaf's grasp, as he was too stunned to notice much. "Klaus!" I cried._

_I ran to him, not caring about Count Olaf or Esmé or the sinister duo or Carmelita Spats. Klaus was here and as long as he was alive, everything would be okay. Klaus met my gaze as I approached and I didn't hesitate to smash right into him, my arms wrapping around his neck. Klaus' arms were around me too and I looked up to see that tears were glistening in his eyes._

_"Jane," he said, softly and hearing my old name coming from Klaus was an enormous relief. Finally, I was someone other than Jamie Murray or 'Blondie' or all those other nicknames I'd ever received. I could be Jane. I could be myself._

_"I thought you were dead," I whispered as I let go. Though if it were up to me, I'd never let go of Klaus again. I felt tears in my eyes as I said it._

_"I thought I was going to die too," Klaus said as a tear rolled down his cheek, "but I came back. We couldn't leave you and Sunny like that."_

I smiled sadly, remembering how excited I had been in that moment when I saw Jane again. It was the feeling I got every time I saw her face. She was taken away from us so often that every chance I had to see her had always been moments that I cherished.

I continued to read about her experience on the _Carmelita_, gritting my teeth when Olaf made his proposal for her to join him. Jane refused that time but I understood how upset she was when she discovered that her mother had been one of Count Olaf's associates. I don't know what I would do if I learned that about my own parents. I got to the part where my siblings and I were captured with Fiona. I only skimmed the next few pages, since I already knew what happened. I reached the moment when I had told Jane that we were no longer friends. Oh, what a terrible mistake I made! I read with an aching heart, Jane watching as Fiona kissed me and then I read about her final decision to join Olaf. Jane left it off there. I flipped through the last few blank pages and then noticed something written on the last page in big, black letters:

**AND THEY ALL LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER?**

"Oh, Jane," I whispered as it occurred to me again how big of a mistake I had made. It was my fault that Jane was a villain. I thought she had done this terrible thing but I hadn't taken into account all the terrible things that had happened to her. I hadn't realized how she felt about me and I would live forever with that guilt and regret if I didn't do something.

It was dark by the time I was finished and I looked up to see Violet and Sunny waiting patiently for me to finish. They both frowned when they saw that I was crying.

"Oh, Klaus," Violet said, "what's wrong?"

"You were right," I said, quietly. "Jane really did have our best interests at heart and she…likes me. Can you believe that?"

Violet gave me a small smile. "I knew," she said softly.

"You knew?" I said, a little irritated. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Violet shook her head. "You had to figure it out on your own," Violet said, "I knew you would. Besides, it wasn't my place to tell you."

I sighed, shaking my head, in a daze. "This whole time she liked me and I never knew. I'm such a horrible person. It's my fault that Jane is a villain. I never listened to what she had to say. I should have let her explain and I shouldn't have judged her. Do you know how many horrible things she went through in Olaf's clutches? She never said a word about any of it. She's probably still facing terrible things. I've made a horrible mistake."

Violet put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Maybe," she said, "but there may still be a chance to turn things around. This is a good thing. I mean, if I had the chance to make things right with the person I cared about, I wouldn't wait. You never know what tomorrow will bring so you have to tell each other while you still have a chance." Violet's smile had been replaced by an expression that reflected her pain at losing Quigley. It took me a little while to figure it out, but I discovered that she was as fond of Quigley as I was of Jane. I laid a hand on top of hers.

"You'll have your chance soon too," I said. "I know you will."

Violet nodded but her forehead scrunched up the way it did when she was worried. She tied her hair back though this time it wasn't because she was inventing anything. I knew she liked to do it when she was worried about something.

"Why don't we share what we observed today?" Violet suggested. "Maybe we'll be able to piece everything together. And perhaps tomorrow you could find Jane and tell her. She might change her mind."

"Okay," I said, liking the sound of that. Maybe Violet was right and things between Jane and I could be fixed.

So we each shared what we observed during our tasks this afternoon. Violet explained her encounter with Esmé Squalor, Geraldine Julienne, Carmelita Spats, and Jane. Jane and Carmelita had demanded a harpoon gun, causing Violet to worry that something terrible might happen. I described in detail what I observed about Sir and Charles as well as the argument I had with Jane. Sunny told us the story of Vice Principal Nero, Miss. Bass, Mr. Remora, Hal, and either Frank or Ernest. I took notes in my commonplace book of everything Violet and Sunny described. Violet took notes on what I observed as I described them. We all gazed at what was written but found only more mysteries surrounding us then there was earlier today.

"It just doesn't make any sense," Violet said. "Why is Esmé Squalor planning a party? Why did Carmelita Spats request a harpoon gun?"

"Why are Sir and Charles here?" I asked. "Why is there birdpaper hanging out of the window of the sauna?"

"Why Nero?" Sunny asked. "Why Remora? Why Bass? Why Hal?"

"Who is J. S.?" Violet asked. "Is he a man lurking in the basement, or is she a woman watching the skies?"

"Where is Count Olaf?" I asked. "Why has he invited so many of our former guardians here to the hotel?"

"Frankernest," Sunny said.

Sunny's question was the biggest mystery of all. Even though we had each seen one of the managers, but neither of us could decide whether it was Frank or Ernest or figure out how two people could be at three places at once.

The silence was broken when a strange, continuous noise came from outside. It confused us at first but then we realized that it must be the frogs of the pond croaking from outside.

"Kit said that all would not go well," Violet said. "She said our errands may be noble, but that we would not succeed."

"That's true," I agreed. "She said all our hopes would go up in smoke, and maybe she was right. We each observed a different story, but none of the stories makes any sense."

"Elephant," Sunny said. Violet and I looked at her curiously. "Poem," she said. "Father." Violet and I looked at each other in puzzlement.

"Elephant," Sunny insisted. But we still could not understand what she was saying which was unusual. The brow furrowed on Sunny's little forehead and then she looked up at us. "John Godfrey Saxe," she said. We all shared a smile.

My father had been a big fan of John Godfrey Saxe's poems because he enjoyed American humorism. He had many of the poems memorized. Sometimes he would grab one of us, bounce one of us up and down on his lap, and recite a poem by John Godfrey Saxe. The poem is about six blind men who come to encounter an elephant for the first time but they are unable to degree on what it is like. Since, Violet and I had grown too old for that kind of thing, Sunny became his main audience for his poem so she remembered it better than we did.

"That poem could have been written about us," Violet said. "We've each observed one tiny part of the puzzle, but none of us has seen the entire thing."

"Nobody could see the entire thing," I said. "There's a mystery behind every door at the Hotel Denouement, and nobody can be everywhere at once, observing all the volunteers and all the villains."

"We've still got to try," Violet said. "Kit said that the sugar bowl was on its way to this hotel. We have to stop it from falling into the hands of the impostor."

"But the sugar bowl could be hidden anywhere," I said, "and the impostor could be anyone. Everyone we observed was talking about J. S., but we still don't know who he or she is."

"'Each was partly in the right,'" Sunny recited a line from the penultimate refrain of the elephant poem.

We smiled. "'And all were in the wrong,'" We said together, but the rest was drowned out by a louder Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! from the clock of the Hotel Denouement.

"It's late," I said, as the twelfth Wrong! faded. "I hadn't realized we'd been talking for so long." We stood up and stretched. The lobby was deserted and silent. The lid of the grand piano was closed. The cascading fountain had been turned off. The reception desk was empty as well. The light from the frog-shaped lamp, and the three of us, were the only signs of life underneath the enormous domed ceiling.

"I guess the guests are asleep," Violet said, "or they're staying up all night reading, like Frank said."

"Or Ernest," Sunny pointed out.

"Maybe we should try to sleep as well," I said. "We have one more day to solve these mysteries, and we should be well-rested when that day arrives."

"I suppose there won't be much to observe after dark," Violet said.

"Tired," Sunny yawned.

We all nodded but felt wrong about sleeping at a time like this. How could we sleep when so many of our enemies were busy scheming? Our sleeping conditions were the most comfortable either but we were used to discomfort by now. So we gave in and turned off the frog lamp to sleep. We needed our rest if we were going to survive the events of tomorrow and the days to come.

"It's dark," Sunny said after a moment.

"It is dark," Violet agreed, with a yawn. "With my sunglasses on, it's as dark as—what did Kit Snicket say?—as dark as a crow flying through a pitch black night."

"That's it," I said suddenly as something occurred to me. I stood up and turned on the frog lamp.

"What's it?" Violet said. "I thought we were going to sleep."

"How can we sleep," I asked, "when the sugar bowl is being delivered to the hotel this very night?"

"What?" Sunny asked. "How?"

I pulled out my commonplace book and turned to the notes I had recently taken. "By crow," I said.

"Crow?" Violet said.

"It wouldn't be the first time crows have carried something important," I said, recalling the time the Quagmires had used crows to secretly deliver the information of their whereabouts. "That's what Esme Squalor has been watching for with her Vision Furthering Device."

"J. S. too," Sunny said, remembering what either Frank or Ernest had said about watching the skies.

"And that's why Carmelita Spats had me fetch a harpoon gun," Violet said thoughtfully. "To shoot down the crows, so V.F.D. can never get the sugar bowl."

"And that's why either Frank or Ernest had me hang birdpaper outside the window of the sauna," I said. "If the crows are hit with the harpoon gun, they'll fall onto the birdpaper, and he'll know that the delivery had been unsuccessful."

"But was it Frank who had you lay out the birdpaper," Violet asked, "or Ernest? If it was Frank, then the birdpaper will serve as a signal to volunteers that they have been defeated. And if it was Ernest, then the birdpaper will serve as a signal to villains that they have triumphed."

"And what about the sugar bowl?" I asked. "The crows will drop the sugar bowl if the harpoon hits them." I frowned at my commonplace book. "If the crows drop a heavy object like that," I said, "it will fall straight down into the pond."

"Maybe no," Sunny said.

"Where else could it land?" Violet said.

"Spynsickle," Sunny said, which was her way of saying "laundry room."

"How would it get into the laundry room?" I asked.

"The funnel," Sunny said. "Frank said. Or Ernest."

"So they had you place a lock on the laundry room door," Violet said, "so that nobody could get to the sugar bowl."

"But did Frank have Sunny activate the lock," I asked, "or Ernest? If it was Frank, then the sugar bowl is locked away from any villains who want to get their hands on it. But if it was Ernest, then the sugar bowl is locked away from any volunteers who ought to get their hands on it."

"J. S.," Sunny said.

"J. S. is the key to the entire mystery," Violet agreed. "Esme Squalor thinks J. S. is spoiling the party. Sir thinks J. S. is hosting the party. Hal thinks J. S. might be here to help. Kit thinks J. S. might be an enemy. And we still don't even know if J. S. is a man or a woman!"

"Like blind men," Sunny said, "with elephant."

"We have to find J. S.," I agreed, "but how? Trying to locate one guest in an enormous hotel is like finding one book in a library."

"A library without a catalog," Violet said quietly.

We all exchanged sad glances by the light of the frog-shaped lamp. I thought of all the libraries we had seen in the past and wondered if the secrets we revealed would help us solve the mysteries of Hotel Denouement.

"The world is quiet here," Sunny said, reciting the motto and then we heard a shuffling noise from above. It increased in volume, however, it was too dark to see. Finally, Violet lifted the frog-shaped lamp as far as it could go, and we all removed our sunglasses. It was hard to tell, but I could spot a shadowy shape lowering itself from the clock using a thick rope like a spider lowers itself to the middle of a web. It was unsettling but it was hard not to admire the skill with which it was done. It came closer and closer until we could make out a lean man with limbs that stuck out at odd angles. He maneuvered himself down the rope in which he unraveled at the same time.

The man was climbing down a rope he was unraveling at the same time. Finally, the man neared the ground and with an elegant flourish he let go of the rope, landing silently on the floor. Then he came toward us, pausing to brush a speck of dust off the word MANAGER printed over one of the pockets of his coat.

"Good evening, Baudelaires," the man said. "Forgive me for not revealing myself earlier, but I had to be sure that you were who I thought you were. It must have been very confusing to wander around this hotel without a catalog to help you."

"So there is a catalog?" I asked.

"Of course there's a catalog," the man said. "You don't think I'd organize this entire building according to the Dewey Decimal System and then neglect to add a catalog, do you?"

"But where is the catalog?" Violet asked.

The man smiled. "Come outside," he said, "and I'll show you."

"Trap," Sunny whispered to us, and we nodded in agreement.

"We're not following you," Violet said, "until we know that you're someone we can trust."

The man smiled. "I don't blame you for being suspicious," he said. "When I used to meet your father, Baudelaires, we would recite the work of an American humorist poet of the nineteenth century, so we could recognize one another in our disguises." He paused, made a gesture with one of his arms, and began to recite a poem:

_"So oft in theologic wars,_

_The disputants,_

_I ween,_

_Rail on in utter ignorance_

_Of what each other mean,_

_And prate about an Elephant_

_Not one of them has seen!"_

"John Godfrey Saxe," said Sunny with a smile.

"Very good," the man said. He walked across the lobby, pulling the rope down from the ceiling and putting it into his belt.

"And who are you?" Violet called.

"Can't you guess?" the man asked and halted at the entrance.

We hurried to catch up with him as he turned to exit the hotel.

"Frank?" I said.

"No," the man said as he began to walk down the stairs. We took a step outside; the croaking of the frogs grew in volume. The fog steam from the funnel made it hard to see the pond though. We exchanged cautious glances and then continued to follow.

"Ernest?" Sunny asked.

The man smiled, and kept walking down the stairs, disappearing into the steam. "No," he said.

* * *

**Review!**

******I'll update soooon! :)**


	9. Hopeless

**New Chapter! ENJOY!**

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Hopeless**

_**Jamie Murray**_

When the book fell to the floor, it opened to a page of the first chapter in which a poem was written. I read the passage, the whimsical style of the book, bringing a small smile to my face:

"_There was a book lying near Alice on the table, and while she sat watching the White King (for she was still a little anxious about him, and had the ink all ready to throw over him, in case he fainted again), she turned over the leaves, to find some part that she could read, '-for it's all in some language I don't know,' she said to herself._

_It was like this._

_YKCOWREBBAJ_

_sevot yhtils eht dna ,gillirb sawT` _

_ebaw eht ni elbmig dna eryg diD_

_,sevogorob eht erew ysmim llA_

_.ebargtuo shtar emom eht dnA_

_She puzzled over this for some time, but at last a bright thought struck her. `Why, it's a Looking-glass book, of course! And if I hold it up to a glass, the words will all go the right way again."_

_This was the poem that Alice read._

_JABBERWOCKY._

_`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves _

_Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; _

_All mimsy were the borogoves, _

_And the mome raths outgrabe._

_`Beware the Jabberwock, my son! _

_The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!_

_Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun_

_The frumious Bandersnatch!'_

_He took his vorpal sword in hand:_

_Long time the manxome foe he sought—_

_So rested he by the Tumtum tree,_

_And stood awhile in thought._

_And as in uffish thought he stood,_

_The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, _

_Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, _

_And burbled as it came!_

_One, two! One, two! And through and through _

_The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!_

_He left it dead, and with its head_

_He went galumphing back._

_`And has thou slain the Jabberwock?_

_Come to my arms, my beamish boy! _

_O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!_

_He chortled in his joy._

_`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves _

_Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; _

_All mimsy were the borogoves,_

_And the mome raths outgrabe."_

I grinned at the book. I loved that poem since the day my teacher at my boarding school assigned us a poetry contest. We had to pick a poem, memorize it, and recite it in front of the class. I had chosen the Jabberwocky as my poem. It had such amusing words that gave me the opportunity to escape from all the misery at my boarding school and immerse myself in the whimsical world of Lewis Carroll's Wonderland.

The passage was interesting too. First Alice couldn't read the poem because it was backwards but when she held it up to a glass mirror, the poem revealed itself. It reminded me of the Hotel Denouement and how it could only be viewed properly when one looked at its reflection in the pond. The book seemed almost too appropriate for our location. Why would Monty Kensicle tell Melissa to give it to me? Was he trying to tell me something? But what? What could it mean? Surely, the Jabberwocky poem didn't mean anything. It was only a whimsical tale of a man who slays the Jabberwocky.

I walked over to stand at the window, still holding the book, and gazed outside. The sun had almost completely disappeared below the horizon, casting an eerie glow on the hotel. I looked down at the pond, trying to find some meaning in what I had read. But there was nothing but the reflection of the hotel and a few ducks.

I looked at the book again and turned a few pages. I remembered how in the story, the mirror had also served as a way for Alice to see Wonderland. I looked back at the pond. Was I supposed to see something within the pond? I wish I could go down there to get a better look. Maybe something was hidden in the pond. It couldn't be Wonderland of course. That place didn't exist. But what? And even if there was some kind of secret world below its surface, how would it be possible? Ponds weren't _that_ deep.

I thought of the V.F.D. headquarters and wondered why the last safe place seemed so…easy to destroy. The headquarters was hidden in a mountain while another one seems a little unlike V.F.D. I mean, if their enemies were people who started fires, why would one of their safe places be a hotel that anyone could find and burn down if they wanted to. If the Hotel Denouement was so secret then why was Ernest one of the managers? He was a villain and even if he could fool other people, he certainly couldn't make his brother think he was a goody-good. And if Frank knew he was a villain, why would he let him work here? It's no wonder why all the other villains found out the location of the last safe place…or did they? But if Hotel Denouement wasn't the last same place than what was?

I looked down at the pond again where I could see the reflection of the hotel. The sign of the hotel was reflected into the pond the right way: HOTEL DENOUEMENT

It seemed like an odd way to design a hotel. I suppose anyone who wasn't well-informed would think it was just a decoration to attract tourists. But what if it wasn't? What if it was a…a…distraction—a decoy? Or maybe the building was the decoy? What if there really was some kind of secret headquarters at the bottom of the pond? Because…because…this building isn't really the Hotel Denouement, therefore, it isn't the last safe place.

"The last safe place is at the bottom of the pond," I whispered aloud, my eyes widening as everything seemed to click. I had a strong feeling that I was right as I said it, as if a part of me knew it all along.

* * *

_**Klaus Baudelaire**_

"You must have thousands of questions, Baudelaires," said the man as we stood at the edge of the pond. "And just think—right here is where they can be answered."

"Who are you?" Violet asked.

"I'm Dewey Denouement," Dewey Denouement replied. "The third triplet. Haven't you heard of me?"

"No," I said. "We thought there were only Frank and Ernest."

"Frank and Ernest get all the attention," Dewey said. "They get to walk around the hotel managing everything, while I just hide in the shadows and wind the clock." He sighed heavily, and glowered at the pond. "That's what I don't like about V.F.D.," he said. "All the smoke and mirrors."

"Smoke?" Sunny asked.

"'Smoke and mirrors,'" Klaus explained, "means 'trickery used to cover up the truth.' But what does that have to do with V.F.D.?"

"Before the schism," Dewey said, "V.F.D. was like a public library. Anyone could join us and have access to all of the information we'd acquired. Volunteers all over the globe were reading each other's research, learning of each other's observations, and borrowing each other's books. For a while it seemed as if we might keep the whole world safe, secure, and smart."

"It must have been a wonderful time," Klaus said.

"I scarcely remember it," Dewey said. "I was four years old when the schism began. I was scarcely tall enough to reach my favorite shelf in the family library—the books labeled 020. But one night, just as our parents were hanging balloons for our fifth birthday party, my brothers and I were taken."

"Taken where?" Violet asked. "Taken by whom?" Sunny asked.

"I admire your curiosity," Dewey said. "The woman who took me said that one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big things, and happy in small ways. And she took me to a place high in the mountains, where she said such things would be encouraged."

I opened my commonplace book and began to take furious notes. "The headquarters," I said, "in the Valley of Four Drafts."

"Your parents must have missed you," Violet said.

"They perished that very night," Dewey said, "in a terrible fire. I don't have to tell you how badly I felt when I learned the news."

My siblings and I sighed, and gazed out at the pond. Another fire that had destroyed more lives. The pond was dark except for a few spots where the glow of a few windows was reflected. I knew what it felt like to lose a parent at a young age, of course. "It was not always this way, Baudelaires," Dewey said. "Once there were safe places scattered across the globe, and so orphans like yourselves did not have to wander from place to place, trying to find noble people who could be of assistance. With each generation, the schism gets worse. If justice does not prevail, soon there will be no safe places left, and nobody left to remember how the world ought to be."

"I don't understand," Violet said. "Why weren't we taken, like you?"

"You were," Dewey said. "You were taken into the custody of Count Olaf. And he tried to keep you in his custody, no matter how many noble people intervened."

"But why didn't anyone tell us what was going on?" I asked. "Why did we have to figure things out all by ourselves?"

"I'm afraid that's the wicked way of the world," Dewey said, shaking his head. "Everything's covered in smoke and mirrors, Baudelaires. Since the schism, all the research, all the observations, even all of the books have been scattered all over the globe. It's like the elephant in the poem your father loved. Everyone has their hands on a tiny piece of the truth, but nobody can see the whole thing. Very soon, however, all that will change."

"Thursday," Sunny said.

"Exactly," Dewey said, giving Sunny a smile. "At long last, all of the noble people will be gathered together, along with all the research they've done, all the observations they've made, all the evidence they've collected, and all the books they've read. Just as a library catalog can tell you where a certain book is located, this catalog can tell you the location and behavior of every volunteer and every villain." He pointed at the hotel. "For years," he said, "while noble people wandered the world observing treachery, my comrade and I have been right here gathering all the information together. We've copied every note from every commonplace book from every volunteer and compiled it all into a catalog. Occasionally, when volunteers have been lost or safe places destroyed, we've had to go ourselves to collect the information that has been left behind. We've retrieved Josephine Anwhistle's files from Lake Lachrymose and carefully copied down their contents. We've pasted together the burnt scraps of Madame Lulu's archival library and taken notes on what we've found. We've searched the childhood home of the man with a beard but no hair, and interviewed the math teacher of the woman with hair but no beard. We've memorized important articles within the stacks of newspaper in Paltryville, and we've thrown important items out of the windows of our destroyed headquarters, so they might wind up somewhere safe at sea. We've taken every crime, every theft, every wicked deed, and every incident of rudeness since the schism began, and cataloged them into an entire library of misfortune. Eventually, every crucial secret ends up in my catalog. It's been my life's work. It has not been an easy life, but it has been an informative one."

"You're more than a volunteer," Violet said. "You're a librarian."

"I'm more of a sub-sub-librarian," Dewey said modestly. "That's what your parents used to call me, because my library work has been largely undercover and underground. Every villain in the world would want to destroy all this evidence, so it's been necessary to hide my life's work away."

"But where could you hide something that enormous?" I said. "It would be like hiding an elephant. A catalog that immense would have to be as big as the hotel itself."

"It is," Dewey said, with a sly expression on his face. "In fact, it's _exactly _as big as the hotel."

Violet and I looked from Dewey to each other, confused.

"_!ahA_" Sunny said, gesturing to the still water of the pond.

"Exactly," Dewey said. "The truth has been right under everyone's noses, if anyone cared to look past the surface. Volunteers and villains alike know that the last safe place is the Hotel Denouement, but no one has ever questioned why the sign is written backward. They're staying in the _TNEMEUONED LETOH_, while the _real _last safe place—the catalog—is hidden safely at the bottom of the pond, in underwater rooms, organized in a mirror image of the hotel itself. Our enemies could burn the entire building to the ground, but the most important secrets would be safe."

"But if the location of the catalog is such an important secret," Violet said, "why are you telling us?"

"Because you should know," Dewey said. "You've wandered the world, observing more villainy and gathering more evidence than most people do in a lifetime. I'm sure the observations and evidence you've gathered in your commonplace book will be valuable contributions to the catalog. Who better than you to keep the world's most important secrets?"

"Actually," I said, "our friend Jane has written down everything that has happened to us in her commonplace book. It will probably be much more useful to you than mine."

"Do you mean Jane Rumary?" Dewey asked. "She's the one who's Count Olaf's latest captive, correct?"

I nodded. "Except she isn't really Jane Rumary," I said, "She's Jamie Murray."

"Murray did you say?" Dewey asked, with wide eyes. "She's alive? Jamie Faith Murray? Well, it should be Murray-Richards but most people are too lazy to say the whole name." He chuckled. "After a while, Henry had to come to terms with people neglecting to use his surname. Fortunately, he didn't mind. When you see your friend next, tell her I knew her parents. Henry and Abigail were good friends of mine just like your parents were. Unfortunately, Abigail's disappearance is the one mystery I'm yet to solve."

Dewey sighed and looked out at the pond. After a moment, he turned to look at each one of us in turn. "After Thursday," he continued, "you won't have to be at sea anymore, Baudelaires." I knew it meant that we would no longer feel lost and confused. Listening to him say those words, made tears well up in my eyes. "I hope you decide to make this your permanent home. I need someone with an inventive imagination who can improve on the aquatic design of the catalog. I need someone with the sort of research skills that can expand the catalog until it is the finest in the world. And, of course, we'll need to eat, and I've heard wonderful things about Sunny's cooking. And I heard Jamie Murray is a wonderful performer and a writer, and we'll need entertainment as well."

"Efcharisto," Sunny said modestly.

"Hal's meals are atrocious, I'm afraid," Dewey said with a rueful smile. "I don't know why he insisted on opening his restaurant in Room 954, when so many other suitable rooms were available. Bad food of any style is unpleasant, but bad Indian food is possibly the worst."

"Hal is a volunteer?" I asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Dewey said, "After the fire that destroyed Heimlich Hospital, my comrade arrived on the scene to catalog any information that might have survived. She found Hal in a very distraught condition. His Library of Records was in shambles, and he had nowhere to live. She offered him a position at the Hotel Denouement, where he might aid us in our research and learn to cook. Unfortunately he's only been good at one of those things."

"And what about Charles?" Violet asked.

"Charles has been searching for you since you left the lumbermill," Dewey said. "He cares for you, Baudelaires, despite the selfish and dreadful behavior of his partner. You've seen your share of wicked people, Baudelaires, but you've seen your share of people as noble as you are."

"I'm not sure we _are _noble," I said quietly, as I flipped through the pages of Jane's commonplace book. "We caused those accidents at the lumbermill. We're responsible for the destruction of the hospital. We helped start the fire that destroyed Madame Lulu's archival library. We-"

"Enough," Dewey interrupted gently, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You're noble enough, Baudelaires. That's all we can ask for in this world."

I hung my head, leaning against Dewey as tears fell from my eyes. I felt my sisters huddling against me and we all stood silently in the dark. We were all shedding tears, even Dewey could not help letting some escape. I wished Jane were here with us. I always felt a sense of comfort whenever she was around. Nevertheless, as we stood there, I was grateful for his words because they were a blessing and very comforting.

There was the sound of a car approaching and I looked up to see two figures emerging from the taxi and once again I was grateful for this blessing.

"Baudelaires!" called a familiar voice.

"Baudelaires!" called another one.

The people emerging from the taxis wore strange glasses with two huge cones attached to their heads with a mass of tangled rope, coiled up on top of their heads. Despite their strange eyewear, I was able to recognize them at once. I couldn't believe my eyes. I never thought I would see either one of them again.

"Justice Strauss!" Violet cried.

"Jerome Squalor!" I cried.

"J. S.!" Sunny cried.

"I'm so happy to find you," said the judge, removing her Vision Furthering Device so she could dab at her eyes and embrace each of us individually. "I was afraid I'd never see you again. I'll never forgive myself for letting that idiotic banker take you away from me."

"And I'll never forgive myself," said Jerome, "for walking away from you children and letting Count Olaf get away with Jane. I'm afraid I wasn't a very good guardian."

"And I'm afraid I wasn't a guardian at all," Justice Strauss said. "As soon as you were taken away in that automobile, I knew I had done the wrong thing, and when I heard the dreadful news about Dr. Montgomery I began searching for you. Eventually I found other people who were also trying to battle the wicked villains of this world, but I always hoped I would find you myself, if only to say how sorry I was."

"I'm sorry, too," Jerome said. "As soon as I heard about all the troubles that befell you in the Village of Fowl Devotees, I began my own Baudelaire search. Volunteers were leaving me messages everywhere—at least, I thought the messages were addressed to_me_."

"And I thought they were addressed to _me," _Justice Strauss said. "There are certainly plenty of people with the initials J. S."

"I began to feel like an impostor," Jerome said.

"You're not impostors," Dewey said. "You're volunteers." He turned to face us. "Both these people have helped us immeasurably," he said. "Justice Strauss has reported the details of your case to the other judges in the High Court. And Jerome Squalor has done some critical research on injustice."

"I was inspired by my wife," Jerome confessed, removing his Vision Furthering Device. "Wherever I looked for you, Baudelaires, I found selfish plots to steal your fortune. I read books on injustice in all the libraries you left behind and eventually wrote a book myself. _Odious Lusting After Finance _chronicles the history of greedy villains, treacherous girlfriends, bungling bankers, and all the other people responsible for injustice."

"No matter what we do, however," Justice Strauss said, "we can't erase the wrongs we did you, Baudelaires."

"She's right," Jerome Squalor said. "We should have been as noble as you are."

"You're noble enough," Violet said. Sunny and I nodded. The judge and the injustice expert embraced us again. And I found that I wanted to forgive them for their mistakes because they were noble enough and perhaps they should be given another chance.

"I don't mean to break up all this embracing," Dewey said, "but we have work to do, volunteers. As one of the first volunteers said a very long time ago, 'Though boys throw stones at frogs in sport, the frogs do not die in sport, but in earnest.'"

"Speaking of frogs," Justice Strauss said, "I'm afraid to report that we couldn't see a thing from the other side of the pond. These Vision Furthering Devices work well in the daytime, but looking through special sunglasses after sunset makes everything look as dark as a crow flying through a pitch black night—which is precisely what we're looking for."

"Justice Strauss is correct," Jerome said sadly. "We couldn't verify the arrival of the crows, or whether their journey was interrupted."

"We couldn't see if even a single crow was trapped," the judge said, "or if the sugar bowl fell into the funnel."

"Funnel?" Dewey repeated.

"Yes," Justice Strauss said. "You told us that if our enemies shot down the crows, they would have fallen onto the birdpaper."

"And if the crows fell onto the birdpaper," Jerome continued, "then the sugar bowl would drop into the laundry room, right?"

Dewey looked from the steaming funnel to the pond with a sly smile. "So it would appear," he said. "Our enemies capturing the sugar bowl would be as troubling as their capture of the Medusoid Mycelium."

"So you already know about the plan to shoot down the crows, and capture the sugar bowl?" Violet said incredulously.

"Yes," Dewey said. "Justice Strauss learned that the harpoon gun had been taken up to the rooftop sunbathing salon. Jerome noticed that birdpaper was dangling out of the window of the sauna in Room 613. And I gave Sunny the lock myself, so she could lock up the laundry in Room 025."

"You know about all the villainous people who are lurking in the hotel?" I said, equally incredulously.

"Yes," Justice Strauss said. "We observed rings on all the wooden furniture, from people refusing to use coasters. Obviously there are many villains staying in the hotel."

"Mycelium?" Sunny asked, with perhaps just a touch more incredulousness than Violet and I.

"Yes," Jerome said. "We've learned that Olaf has managed to acquire a few spores locked tight in a diving helmet."

I looked at the two commonplace books in my hands, and then back at the sub-sub-librarian. "I guess our observations and evidence aren't such valuable contributions after all," Violet said. "All the mysteries we encountered in the hotel had already been solved."

"It doesn't matter, Baudelaires," Jerome said. "Olaf won't dare unleash the Medusoid Mycelium unless he gets his hands on the sugar bowl, and he'll never find it."

"I'm the only one who knows which words will unlock the Vernacularly Fastened Door," Dewey said, ushering us back toward the entrance of the hotel, "and there's not a villainous person on Earth who has done enough reading to guess them before Thursday. By then, all of the volunteers will present the research they've done on Count Olaf and his associates to the prosecution, and all their treachery will finally end."

"Jerome Squalor will be an important witness," Justice Strauss said. "His comprehensive history of injustice will help the High Court reach a verdict."

"Prosecution?" Violet asked.

"Witness?" I asked.

"Verdict?" Sunny said.

The adults exchanged smiles and then turned their gaze on us. "That's what we've been trying to tell you," Dewey said gently. "V.F.D. has researched an entire catalog of Olaf's treachery. On Thursday, Justice Strauss and the other judges of the High Court will hear from each and every one of our volunteers. Count Olaf, Esmé Squalor, and all of the other villainous people gathered here will finally be brought to justice."

"You'll never have to hide from Olaf again," Jerome said, "or worry that anyone will steal your fortune."

"We just have to wait for tomorrow, Baudelaires," Justice Strauss said, "and your troubles will finally be over."

"It's like my comrade always says," Dewey said. "Right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant."

_Wrong! _The clanging of the clock announced that it was currently one o'clock in the morning. No one said anymore as Dewey took Violet's hand, and Justice Strauss took mine, and Jerome Squalor leaned down and took Sunny's hand, and they led us up the stairs toward the hotel's entrance. They smiled at us, and we smiled back, but I knew by now that our troubles truly weren't about to end and that Count Olaf and all the other villains would be punished by the High Court and that my siblings, Jane, and I would work with Dewey Denouement on his enormous underwater catalog for the rest of our lives, if we only waited for tomorrow. However, this happy moment was cut short as we entered the lobby of the Hotel Denouement and the one loud _Wrong/ _faded into nothing. A person stood in the center of the lobby, his tall lean body bent into a theatrical pose as if he were waiting for a crowd to applaud, and even in the dim light of the room, I could see the tattoo of an eye on his ankle. I had become so accustomed to Olaf intruding on moments when my siblings and I found happiness that I wasn't surprised to see him. When Count Olaf turned to face us, he gazed upon them with his shiny, shiny eyes, making me wish I had never been born.

* * *

_**Jamie Murray**_

I sat on the bed now, watching television aimlessly and growing increasingly worried. All I wanted to do was cry more and more. I couldn't escape that helpless feeling that nothing would ever be okay. No matter how many times I tried to convince myself that tomorrow would be brighter, I knew by now it wasn't true. I didn't like sitting and doing nothing productive when Olaf was busy scheming to destroy V.F.D. at his cocktail party. But everything I knew if I wanted to do something, I couldn't accomplish it while in this room. Except I was terrified of going out there knowing that the man with a beard but no hair was released from the storage room.

I decided to take a shower and try to wash away that filthy feeling I had ever since the bearded associate attacked me. It was the same feeling that I had after the bald man tried the same thing. It was worse this time. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I still didn't feel very clean. At last, I gave up and got out of the shower, drying off and getting dressed. I figured I didn't need to wear the bikini anymore but just in case, I kept it on underneath the outfit I put on. I put on the tank top and jeans again since I would not wear those atrocious looking rompers unless Esmé forced me to put them on.

I rummaged through my bag and pulled out the owl figurine. However, as I pulled it out, my hand brushed against something stiff and rough. Curious, I pulled out the object and realized with wide eyes that I had completely forgotten about the letter. The yellow parchment was heavy and the familiar green writing showed it had been addressed to Mount Fraught since that's where I remember getting it. I wasted no more time and hastily opened the envelope. Inside was the letter, which I pulled out with trembling hands. Could this letter be the key to my freedom? Is that why Esmé and Count Olaf hid it from me all this time?

I began to read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Miss Murray,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted

at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please

find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

_ Minerva McGonagall_

Minerva McGonagall,

_ Deputy Headmistress_

I gasped. My head was spinning with questions. A…what? I was a…_witch?_ No way. It sounded so strange but oddly it somewhat made sense. I thought of all the bizarre things that seemed to always happen to me. Like the time when I seemed to almost teleport from Count Olaf's home to the secret passageway. I remembered how I was somehow able to break free of the straps of that scary bed at Dr. Orwell's office. My Matilda powers, of course. Could it really be _magic _instead? But I thought magic was only in fantasy novels or movies. Then again, the Baudelaires and I didn't know that hypnosis was possible until Dr. Orwell used it on Klaus. And what about that woman in the gift shop caravan? She acted as if there were more people like me.

Klaus had the Matilda powers too. Did that mean he was a…_wizard_? Well it must mean something since Esmé and Olaf kept stealing the letters from me. They probably knew about it and didn't want me to know so I wouldn't be able to escape.

The letter also said that they were expecting an owl…I thought of Spirit and all those other owls that had taken part in the delivery of the numerous letters. So I had to reply using an owl. But I didn't have an owl and Spirit was nowhere to be found. I had until July 31. That was several months away since it was still spring but I had no clue what could happen in those months leading up to that due date. Would I even be able to get an owl by then to send it to Hogwarts? Where is Hogwarts? The lady who wrote the letter didn't leave an address.

But that's when I remembered…there was no way I could actually attend this school even if I wanted to and even if I could go, how could I escape from Esmé and Olaf? I suppose if I ran into Monty Kensicle again, I could tell him and ask him to take me. Maybe he would know where it is. But I never took notice of what room he had brought me in, however, knowing him, the room we spoke in probably wasn't his _actual_ room. Besides, how could I leave the Baudelaires behind? And Melissa? And the Quagmires?

Perhaps the letter I wrote in reply would have to be myself turning down the offer. I knew by now that something this wonderful could never really happen for me. And what about Thursday? What if Olaf got away with his plans and he took the Baudelaires and I far away to that island? I'd never see an owl again or have anyway of getting to that school. It was a dream that was too far out of my reach. I sighed, wishing that I never found the letter and gotten my hopes up.

I found a blank piece of paper on a desk in one corner of the room and a pen. In my best handwriting, I began to write:

_Dear Minerva McGonagall,_

_My name is Jamie Faith Murray but some people call me Jane. I don't know what to make of this letter or this information. I think you might be mistaken. I'm not a witch. I'm just a ten-year-old girl—An orphan girl since my parents died when I was only a baby. That's all I can really say about myself since I'm still trying to figure out exactly who I am. Even if what you say is true, I won't be able to attend your school. You see, my friends, the Baudelaires and I are currently at the Hotel Denouement in New York. I'm not sure of the location of your school but even if it is nearby, any chance of coming is pretty much impossible. _

_A number of months ago, my friends and I encountered a man by the name of Count Olaf who has caused us nothing but trouble by doggedly pursuing us from home to home, scheming ways to steal our fortunes that our parents left behind when they died. He's come close nearly every time too, with the four of us barely escaping. In fact, I wasn't so fortunate and now I'm one of his captives. Anyways, we discovered a secret organization so secret that we still barely understand what it is; however, we did discover that it was split by a schism into a firefighting side and a fire starting side. Recently, I made the decision to turn to darkness, which I regret now but if I try to be good again, I'll be alone and my life might be at risk. I'm afraid and trying to find a way out of this mess before Count Olaf destroys everything this organization worked to create. My time is running out and I don't know how long I'll be able to last. If Count Olaf succeeds, he plans to take my friends and I far away to an island so the authorities won't be able to find us. I've been telling myself that there is a way out and that tomorrow will be brighter. But I know it isn't so. I know things will only worsen because I wasn't born yesterday. My life has always been a miserable disaster from the moment that I found out my parents died._

_I shouldn't be complaining though. I know there are people currently going through things that are much worse. My friends, the Quagmires, are in dire circumstances since a swarm of eagles is trying to destroy the self-sustaining hot air balloon home they are in. I just hope they make it out alive. As for me, the only people who ever cared about me think I'm a murderer. But I'm not. I'm not evil. Olaf has tried to convince me that I'm destined to become a villain though. I don't know yet what my destiny is, but I always hoped for happiness. I'm yet to find that, however lately I've been doubtful of ever finding it, especially if I find myself stuck on that island with that treacherous man._

_Besides, I could never leave my friends. Even if we're not in good terms, I would never go somewhere like Hogwarts without them with me. I'm sure you have people in your life that you care about enough not to abandon them even when you feel as if they've abandoned you. If things go well this Thursday, perhaps I will consider finding my way with the help of one of my friends, Monty Kensicle. But if Thursday fails and the sky fills with smoke, all the innocent people, my friends, and everyone else fighting the fires will all be doomed to fall while evil triumphs. Maybe if Thursday is successful, then we'll be free and there will be peace. _

_So not only would going to Hogwarts be nearly impossible, I don't want to go. I just don't think I deserve to have such a gift. You should give it to someone who will have a better future and isn't caught up in a world full of despair and misery. I may not be a murderer but I'm not a noble person either. Thank you very much for your offer, but there's just too much happening and I'm sorry to say that I can't go. _

_Yours sincerely,  
__ Jamie Faith Murray_

Jamie Faith Murray

_Orphan_

I wiped away the tears in my eyes with the backs of my hands as I folded up the piece of paper. I didn't have an envelope so I reused the one they sent to me and wrote the return address as best as I could. All I wrote was the name of the school, and the name of both the Headmaster and the woman who wrote the letter.

As if on cue, there was a _tap-tap_ on my window and when I looked up, an owl was perched on the windowsill. Quickly, I went to open the window and the owl flew to sit on my bed. Carefully, I handed the owl the letter and it flew away, disappearing into the steam from the funnel. I sighed again. It looks like Olaf and Esmé got what they wanted again.

* * *

**Review!**

**Should Violet and Sunny be magic too? Well I'm mostly asking about Violet since Sunny isn't even old enough. On one hand, she's the sciency type so magic might not work well with her plus she would be going into her fifth year or fourth year. If she isn't magic though, I might not be able to include her as much in my fic since it mostly follows Jamie's or Klaus's POV. On the other hand, if Violet is magic, she could invent all kinds of magic gizmos like a new and improved Time Turner or something and she would be more involved in the story. So let me know what you think!**


	10. La Forza del Destino

**NEW CHAPTER! :)**

**First, sorry for the delay. I was in my school play which performed the past two weekends and that took a lot of time plus homework and stuff. But I hope this chapter makes up for it!**

**So ENJOY! And Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it!**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: La Forza del Destino**

_**Jamie Murray**_

It was a long time before there was a knock on the door. It was a small mercy that I had a chance to watch some television and try to relax. It was hard to when I was so worried about having to shoot the crow.

I sighed and put _Through the Looking Glass_ away before I answered the door. Count Olaf stood behind it with a wicked grin and especially shiny eyes as if his plans were already succeeding, which made me feel even worse. Soon I would be contributing to that success if I managed to shoot down the crow.

"Is it time?" I asked.

"Oh yes," Olaf said, "Aren't you excited to finally be able to assist me with my plans?"

"Of course," I lied. "Let me just grab my bag."

I went to grab my bag because I could never be sure if Olaf's scheme's would prevail or not. I wanted to be prepared.

Olaf began to pull me from the room and into the hall. As it was very late, many people were already in their rooms so finding an empty elevator was simple.

We reached the rooftop-bathing salon where Esmé was closely watching the sky with her strange glasses. Carmelita was still in her boat. Everyone else had abandoned the rooftop except for Hugo, Colette, and Kevin, of course, who were all dressed in their respective disguises.

"Esmé!" Olaf called.

Esmé turned her gaze from the sky to Olaf. "You're back, darling!" she cried in greeting and then she glanced in my direction. "Oh good," she said, "Jamie's still here. I was beginning to worry she would sneak away again."

"I suppose she's learned her lesson," Olaf said giving me an evil smirk. "In fact, she's all ready to take part in my scheme. Where's the harpoon? I want to have it ready. The crow could arrive any minute now."

"Carmelita still has it," Esmé said. "Carmelita, darling, come here and give the harpoon to Jamie."

"Stop calling me darling!" Carmelita complained. "I'm a ball-playing cowboy superhero soldier pirate!" But she climbed out of the boat and made her way over to us.

"I'm sorry dar—" Esmé caught herself. "I'm sorry you tough ball-playing cowboy superhero soldier pirate."

Carmelita looked pleased.

"Now, Carmelita," Olaf said, "Why don't you hand the harpoon gun over to Jamie so she can hit the crow?"

"But you said I could do it," Carmelita complained. "You promised to teach me how to spit if I did."

"Give the harpoon to Blondie," Olaf ordered, growing increasingly irritated.

"Why don't we just let Carmelita do it?" Esmé said. "Does it really matter whether it's Jamie or Carmelita?"

"But Jamie needs to prove herself," Olaf said, "and Carmelita could miss."

"How about they both have a turn then?" Esmé suggested. "Isn't that what we decided earlier?"

"Fine," Olaf grumbled. "But Blondie goes first. Give her the gun Car—I mean you ball-playing cowboy superhero soldier pirate."

Carmelita pouted but she gave me the gun. It felt heavy in my hands, the metal surface cool and foreboding.

"Do you see any crows?" Count Olaf asked Esmé, seeming increasingly eager for me to kill one.

Esmé searched the sky with her Vision Furthering Device.

"Nothing yet," Esmé said.

"Let's move closer to the edge so Blondie can get a better aim," Olaf suggested and began shoving me over until we stood a bit closer to the edge. He peered over the edge and then faced us with shiny eyes. "There's been a slight change of plans. I must be going."

"What's going on?" Esmé asked.

"The Baudelaires are down there and Ernest has them," Olaf said. "Ha! I'll have to go down there and retrieve them myself. Shoot the crow down and then you can meet me in the lobby. Make sure Blondie shoots the crow or she'll have to face very severe consequences. Ha!"

Count Olaf left and I was left staring nervously down at the ground far below where I could make out four dark figures who resembled the Baudelaires and Ernest Denouement. Two more figures suddenly appeared and I realized one of them was Jerome Squalor. The other figure was a woman I didn't recognize. Knowing that Olaf was going down to 'retrieve' them made my stomach churn. There was nothing I could do about it either.

"Stop worrying about them," Esmé said. "You need to be worried about whether you're going to be able to hit any of the crows."

Esmé came to stand beside me. "You probably don't even know how to hold a gun," she said, wrinkling her nose. She took the gun from my hands and set it in the right position, putting my hands into place. She must have noticed how frightened I was because she frowned.

"I know you don't want to do this," she said. "But there's nothing I can do."

I nodded sadly. "What if I miss?"

"You won't miss," she said, but she looked doubtful. Then she sighed. "How about you let me shoot the crow?"

"But Olaf threatened to hurt me if I don't do it," I said.

"He doesn't have to know," Esmé said with a wink.

"O-okay," I said. "Are you sure?"

"I don't mind," Esmé said, "It won't be the first time I've shot down a crow."

"Thanks I guess," I said.

Esmé rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. Now give me the gun."

I handed her the gun. Esmé made sure Carmelita and the freaks wouldn't tell Count Olaf about this and then we were watching the skies. All of a sudden, there was a slight ruffle. I had to squint to make out the dense murder of crows that flew past, one carrying an object that looked like a bowl—the sugarbowl. Now I wished I were wearing my Vision Furthering Device so I could try and see what was inside. Esmé pulled the red trigger and with a click, the harpoon was sent toward the crow with the sugarbowl in its grasp. The harpoon pierced the crow right through its body. It released a high-pitched shriek and it plummeted downward, disappearing into the fog emerging from the funnel.

* * *

_**Klaus Baudelaire**_

_'Ha!" _Count Olaf shrieked, pointing a bony finger at us and even though I wasn't happy to see him, I was at least thankful that he had changed his laugh from the irritating, long laugh he had the last time we saw him. Our enemy strode across the room toward us. "Ha!" he cried as he moved closer. "I knew I'd find you orphans again! Ha! And now you're in my clutches!"

"We're not in your clutches," Violet said. "We just happen to be standing in the same room."

"That's what you think, orphan," Olaf sneered. "I'm afraid the man who's holding your hand is one of my associates. Hand her over, Ernest. Ha!"

"Ha yourself, Olaf," Dewey Denouement said, sounding brave and steady. "I'm not Ernest, and I'm not handing her over!"

"Well, then hand her over, Frank!" Olaf said. "You might consider doing your hair differently so I can tell you apart."

"I'm not Frank, either," Dewey said.

"You can't fool me!" Count Olaf growled. "I wasn't born yesterday, you know! You're one of those idiotic twins! I should know! Thanks to me, you two are the only survivors of the entire family!"

"Triplets run in my family," Dewey said, "not twins. I'm Dewey Denouement."

Count Olaf was astonished, his one eyebrow rose. "Dewey Denouement," he murmured. "So you're a real person! I always thought you were a legendary figure, like unicorns or Giuseppe Verdi."

"Giuseppe Verdi is not a legendary figure," I said angrily. "He's an operatic composer!"

"Silence, bookworm!" Olaf ordered. "Children should not speak while adults are arguing! Hand over the orphans, adults!"

"Nobody's handing over the Baudelaires!" Justice Strauss said, her hand tightening around my hand. "You have no legal right to them or their fortune!"

"You can't just grab children as if they were pieces of fruit in a bowl!" Jerome Squalor cried. "It's injustice, and we won't have it!"

"You'd better watch yourselves," Count Olaf said, narrowing his shiny eyes. "I have associates lurking everywhere in this hotel."

"So do we," Dewey said. "Many volunteers have arrived early, and within hours the streets will be flooded with taxis carrying noble people here to this hotel."

"How can you be sure they're noble people?" Count Olaf asked. "A taxi will pick up anyone who signals for one."

"These people are associates of ours," Dewey said fiercely. "They won't fail us."

"Ha!" Count Olaf said. "You can't rely on associates. More comrades have failed me than I can count. Why, Hooky and Fiona double-crossed me just yesterday, and let you brats escape! Then they double-crossed me again and stole my submarine!"

"We can rely on our friends," Violet said quietly, "more than you can rely on yours."

"Is that so?" Count Olaf asked, leaning forward with a menacing smile. "Have you learned nothing after all your adventures?" he asked. "Every noble person has failed you, Baudelaires. Why, look at the idiots standing next to you! A judge who let me marry you, a man who gave up on you altogether, and a sub-sub-librarian who spends his life sneaking around taking notes. They're hardly a noble bunch. Not to mention your little friend, Jamie Murray, or should I say former friend. She's on my side now too thanks to you brats! Ha!"

"Charles is here, from Lucky Smells Lumbermill," I said, trying not to show my aggravation that Olaf had taken Jane from us again. This time he had taken her kind-heartedness. Yet as much as I blamed Olaf, I couldn't escape the guilt that this was partially my fault. "He cares about us."

"Sir is here," Olaf retorted. "He doesn't. Ha!"

"Hal," Sunny said.

"Vice Principal Nero and Mr. Remora," Olaf replied, counting each of those horrible people on his dirty fingers. "And that pesky little reporter from _The Daily Punctilio, _who's here to write silly articles praising my cocktail party. And ridiculous Mr. Poe, who arrived just hours ago to investigate a bank robbery. Ha!"

"Those people don't count," I said. "They're not associates of yours."

"They might as well be," Count Olaf replied. "They've been an enormous help. And every second, more associates of mine get closer and closer."

"So do our friends," Violet said. "They're flying across the sea as we speak, and by tomorrow, their self-sustaining hot air mobile home will land on the roof. And Melissa should be with us soon."

"Only if they've managed to survive my eagles," Count Olaf said with a growl. "And that Melissa girl is hardly a noble person. She's a little brat if you ask me and I wouldn't trust her for a second."

"They will survive," I said firmly. "Just like we've survived you."

"And how did you survive me?" Olaf asked. _"The Daily Punctilio _is full of your crimes. You lied to people. You stole. You abandoned people in danger. If you want an example just look at your poor former friend. You set fires. Time after time you've relied on treachery to survive, just like everyone else. There are no truly noble people in this world."

"Our parents," Sunny said fiercely.

Count Olaf seemed taken aback that Sunny had spoken, and then smiled in a way that made my skin crawl. "I guess the sub-sub-librarian hasn't told you the story about your parents," he said, "and a box of poison darts. Why don't you ask him, orphans? Why don't you ask this legendary librarian about that fateful evening at the opera?"

My siblings and I looked at Dewey in confusion. His face was turning red but before we could ask, a voice cut through the silence, interrupting us.

"Don't ask him that," Esmé Squalor said. "I have a much more important question."

She let out a mocking laugh as she emerged from the elevator followed by Carmelita Spats, who was wearing another atrocious outfit Violet had mentioned was supposed to make her look like a ball-playing cowboy superhero soldier pirate and she was holding the harpoon gun. After Carmelita, Jane emerged, looking mortified as if she had done something terrible. Three more people emerged from the elevator. First came someone who looked like an attendant from the rooftop sunbathing salon, wearing green sunglasses and a long, baggy robe. Following the attendant was the mysterious chemist from outside the sauna, dressed in a long, white coat and a surgical mask, and last out of the elevator was the washerwoman from the laundry room, with long, blond hair and rumpled clothing. They each removed the headpieces of their disguises so we could recognize them.

* * *

_**Jamie Murray **_

"Jane!" Klaus cried. I looked up at him and seized up. I didn't want to see him, especially not after how we ended things the last time we saw each other.

"Hugo!" cried Violet.

"Colette! Kevin!" cried Sunny.

"Esmé!" cried Jerome.

"Why isn't anybody calling out my name?" demanded Carmelita, angrily stomping one of her boots. She came over and pointed the harpoon gun at Violet. "I'm a ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate," Carmelita crowed to her, "and you're nothing but a cakesniffer. Call my name or I'll shoot you with this harpoon gun!"

"Carmelita!" Esmé said her eyes widened in shock. "Don't point that gun at Violet!"

"Esmé's right," Count Olaf said. "Don't waste the harpoons. We may need them."

"Yes!" Esmé cried. "There's always important work to do before a cocktail party, particularly if you want it to be the innest in the world! We need to put slipcovers on the couches, and hide our associates beneath them! We need to put vases of flowers on the piano and electric eels in the fountain! We need to hang streamers and volunteers from the ceiling! We need to play music, so people can dance, and block the exits, so they can't leave! And most of all, we have to cook in food and prepare in cocktails! Food and drink are the most important aspect of every social occasion, and our in recipes—"

"The most important aspect of every social occasion isn't food and drink!" the man interrupted in aggravation. I realized he must be Frank. "It's conversation!"

"You're the one who should flee!" the woman I didn't recognize said. "Your cocktail party will be canceled, due to the host and hostess being brought to justice by the High Court!"

"You're as foolish as you were when we were neighbors," Count Olaf said and I wondered if this woman was Justice Strauss. I never met her but the Baudelaires told me about how nice she had been to them while they were staying with Count Olaf. But she was also the one who was tricked into nearly marrying Violet and Olaf. Everytime I thought of what Violet went through with almost marrying Olaf, I shuddered. "The High Court can't stop us. V.F.D. can't stop us. Hidden somewhere in this hotel is one of the most deadly fungi in the entire world. When Thursday comes, the fungus will come out of hiding and destroy everyone it touches! At last I'll be free to steal the Murray fortune, the Baudelaire fortune, and perform any other act of treachery that springs to mind!"

"You won't dare unleash the Medusoid Mycelium," Frank said. "Not while I have the sugar bowl."

"Funny you should mention the sugar bowl," Esmé Squalor said though she seemed not to appear even a bit amused. "That's just what we want to ask you about."

"The sugar bowl?" Count Olaf asked, his eyes shining bright. "Where is it?"

"The freaks will tell you," Esmé said.

"It's true, boss," said Hugo. "I may be a mere hunchback, but I saw Jane and Carmelita shoot down the crows using the harpoon gun Violet brought her."

The woman turned to Violet in astonishment. _"You _gave Carmelita the harpoon gun?" she gasped.

"Well, yes," Violet said. "I had to perform concierge errands as part of my disguise."

"The harpoon gun was supposed to be kept away from villains," the woman said, "not given to them. Why didn't Frank stop you?"

"I think he tried," she said quietly, "but I had to take the harpoon gun up to the roof. What else could I do?"

"_You_ shot down the crow Jane?" Klaus said and his eyes widened in astonishment.

My forehead crinkled with worry. "Yes," I lied, though for some reason I still felt guilty. "But it shouldn't matter to you, right? You already knew I joined Olaf."

"I hit more crows!" bragged Carmelita Spats. "I hit two! That means Countie has to teach me how to spit like a real ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate!"

"Don't worry, darling," Esmé said. "He'll teach you. Won't you, Olaf?"

Count Olaf sighed. "Yes, Carmelita," he said, "I'll teach you how to spit."

Colette stepped forward. "Even a contortionist like me," she said, her mouth moving beneath her elbow, "could see what happened after Carmelita shot the crows. They fell right onto the birdpaper that Klaus dangled out the window."

_"You _dangled the birdpaper out the window?" Jerome asked Klaus.

"Ernest told me to," Klaus said. "I had to obey him as part of my disguise."

"You can't just do what everyone tells you to do," Jerome said.

"What else could I do?" Klaus said.

"I suppose we're not so different, huh?" I said, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes.

"When the crows hit the birdpaper," Kevin said, gesturing with one hand and then the other, "they dropped the sugar bowl. I didn't see where it went with either my right eye or my left one, which I'm sad to say are equally strong. But I did see Sunny turn the door of the laundry room into a Vernacularly Fastened Door."

"Blondie already told me that," Count Olaf cried. "But aha! The sugar bowl must have fallen down the funnel!"

"I still don't see why I had to disguise myself as a washerwoman," Kevin said timidly. "I could have just been a washerperson, and not worn this humiliating wig."

"Or you could have been a noble person," Violet said, "instead of spying on a brave volunteer."

"What else could I do?" Kevin asked, shrugging both shoulders equally high.

"You could be a volunteer yourself," Klaus said. "You too Jane. All of you could stand with us now, instead of helping Count Olaf with his schemes."

"I've made my decision," I said wearily, glancing briefly at Olaf who was narrowing his eyes at me in a silent warning. "There's no turning back now."

"I could never be a noble person," Hugo said sadly. "I have a hump on my back."

"And I'm a contortionist," Colette said. "Someone who can bend their body into unusual shapes could never be a volunteer."

"V.F.D. would never accept an ambidextrous person," Kevin said. "It's my destiny to be a treacherous person."

"Galimatias!" Sunny cried.

"Nonsense!" Frank said, who seemed to understand what Sunny meant, "I'm ambidextrous myself, and I've managed to do something worthwhile with my life. Being treacherous isn't your destiny! It's your choice! Jamie, you mustn't believe there's no way out. I knew your parents very well and they wouldn't want you to do this. You have a choice too!"

"Don't talk to my niece like that," Esmé Squalor said, "But I'm glad you feel that way. You have a choice this very moment, Frank. Tell me where the sugar bowl is, or else!"

"That's not a choice," Frank said, "and I'm not Frank."

Esmé frowned. "Then you have a choice this very moment, Ernest. Tell me where the sugar bowl is, or—"

"Dewey," Sunny said.

Esmé blinked at Sunny. "What?" she asked.

"It's true," Olaf said. "He's the real sub-sub. It turns out he's not legendary, like Verdi."

"Is that so?" Esme Squalor said. "So someone has really been cataloging everything that has happened between us?"

"It's been my life's work," Dewey said. "Eventually, every crucial secret ends up in my catalog."

"Then you know all about the sugar bowl," Esmé said, "and what's inside. You know how important that thing was, and how many lives were lost in the quest to find it. You know how difficult it was to find a container that could hold it safely, securely, and attractively. You know what it means to the Baudelaires and what it means to the Snickets." She took a step closer to Dewey, and pointed one long finger so that it was almost poking him in the eye. "And you know," she said in a terrible voice, "that it is _mine."_

"Not anymore," Dewey said.

"Beatrice stole it from _me!" _Esme cried.

"There are worse things," Dewey said, "than theft."

Esmé chuckled wickedly and I could see the others shuddering. It scared me a bit but I wasn't afraid of Esmé anymore. "There certainly are," she said, and strode toward Carmelita Spats. She moved the harpoon gun so it was pointing at the third Denouement brother. "Tell me how to open that door," she said, "or this little girl will harpoon you."

"I'm not a little girl!" Carmelita reminded Esmé nastily. "I'm a ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate! And I'm not going to shoot any more harpoons until Countie teaches me how to spit."

"You'll do what we say, Carmelita," Olaf growled. "I already purchased that ridiculous outfit for you, and that boat for you to prowl the swimming pool. Point that weapon at Dewey this instant!"

"Teach me to spit!" Carmelita said.

"Point the weapon!"

"Teach me to spit!"

"Point the weapon!"

"Teach me to spit!"

"Weapon!"

"Spit!"

"Weapon!"

"Spit!"

Count Olaf roared and roughly yanked the harpoon gun out of Carmelita's hands, knocking her to the floor. "I'll never teach you how to spit as long as I live!" he shouted. "Ha!"

I knew Carmelita was rotten spoiled and the nastiest girl I've ever met, but in that moment, I found myself kneeling beside her.

"Are you okay?" I asked, holding out my hand to help her up.

Carmelita scowled at me. "I don't need your help cakesniffer."

"Darling!" I heard Esmé gasp. "You can't break your promise to our darling little girl!"

_"I'm not a darling little girl!" _Carmelita screamed as she got up from the ground, elbowing me as she did. _"I'm a ballplaying cowboy_

_superhero soldier pirate!_"

I sighed and got up from the ground and watched as Olaf and Esmé argued.

"You're a spoiled baby!" Olaf corrected. "I never wanted a brat like you around anyway! It's about time you were shown some discipline!"

"But discipline is out!" Esmé said.

"I don't care what's out and what's in!" Count Olaf cried. "I'm tired of having a girlfriend obsessed with fashion! All you do is sit around rooftop sunbathing salons while I run around doing all the work!"

"If I hadn't been on the roof," Esmé retorted, "the sugar bowl would have been delivered to V.F.D.! Besides, I was guarding—"

"Never mind what you were doing," Olaf said. "You're fired!"

"You can't fire me!" Esmé growled. "I quit!"

"Well, you can leave by mutual agreement," Olaf grumbled, and then, with another "Ha!" he turned his gaze on me, his eyes shining brightly. "I have a better idea," Olaf said, "You do it." He thrust the gun into my hands. "Point the gun at the sub-sub librarian Blondie."

I widened my eyes at him.

"But I don't know how to shoot," I said nervously.

"Of course you do," Olaf said with a wicked smile. "You shot that crow. You know that something like this. Now aim the gun at that man and prove yourself worthy of being my associate."

I froze, unsure of what I should do.

"Now," Olaf said, "tell me what the four phrases are or this little girl will shoot you."

"Olaf, stop!" Came Esmé's voice from behind us. I was surprised to see she was still here.

"I thought I fired you," Olaf growled, "you can't tell me to stop."

"You can do whatever you want," Esmé said, "but I'm taking Jamie with me."

"Don't touch her," Olaf hissed. "She's my employee now."

"She's a _ten-year-old girl_," Esmé snarled. "She's not nearly old enough to shoot someone."

"It's good enough for me," Olaf said, "Besides, you didn't have a problem with Blondie or Carmelita shooting down the crow. Up until a few moments ago, you were encouraging Jamie to continue down a villainous path."

"She's coming with _me_!" Esmé said angrily and marched over to take the gun out of my hands. She thrust it back at Olaf and grabbed my arm. Before she could begin to pull me away, Olaf grabbed my other arm.

"Don't even think about taking her," he snarled. "She belongs to me!"

"She's my niece," Esmé retorted, "She's mine!" Esmé pulled on my other arm and I grew worried when I realized I was becoming an object to fight over. "Abigail would have wanted me to have her," Olaf said yanking on my other arm, so I stumbled and nearly fell flat on my face. "She's _mine_!"

"That's not true," Esmé said, pulling on my other arm, "Abigail would turn over in her grave if she knew _you_ had her."

"The girl stays with me!" Olaf snarled, yanking on my arm again. "I'm her legal guardian! It would be considered kidnapping if you took her!"

"I don't care!" Esmé shrieked. "She's mine!"

"She's mine!" Olaf shrieked.

_"Mine!"_

_ "Mine!"_

_ "Mine!"_

_ "Mine!"_

_"Stop it!"_ I exploded, a little too loudly, I'll admit, but at least they stopped tugging on my arms and I avoided any injuries.

"Don't speak to me that way, Blondie," Olaf growled. "I'm your boss."

"Nothing is going to be resolved if you keep screaming at each other," I said, "Did you learn nothing from our stay at the carnival?"

"Fine," Olaf muttered. "If you're so smart, then let me know a better way that I can snatch you from Esmé."

"Well, first, I don't like to be treated as if I'm property," I muttered. "I should have a say in this."

Count Olaf looked from me to Esmé and then they both looked toward me again.

"Alright," Olaf said, "Which one of us do you want to go with?"

I looked from Esmé to Olaf. The decision was obvious. I would choose Esmé over Olaf any day.

"Remember, Jamie," Olaf said, "I can offer you the kind of protection that Esmé is incapable of doing."

"Nice try," I said, "but I think I'm going to pick Esmé."

Olaf scowled at me. "Be careful now, Jamie," he said, his eyes growing dangerously shiny. "What makes you think that Esmé is any better than I am? Why don't you ask her what happened not too long before your mother went missing? I'm sure Esmé would love to tell you how_ marvelously_ she treated your parents."

I looked up at Esmé. She was shooting daggers at Olaf and then she met my gaze, looking very guilty.

"What happened?" I asked Esmé.

"Jamie, I—" She started.

"Don't even try to explain." Olaf said, "Jamie doesn't want to hear any of your lies and frankly, Abigail was a better associate than you."

Esmé scowled. "Fine." She said. "Keep the girl."

"But Esmé," I said, looking at her in fear that she was leaving me to do this horrible deed.

She shook her head at me. "Goodbye, Jamie," she said, "Come on, Carmelita."

I couldn't believe my eyes as she let go of my arm and began to head for the elevators with Carmelita. I tore my hand from Olaf's grasp and ran towards her.

"Don't go!" I begged. "Please don't leave!" I reached her and wrapped my arms around her, hoping she would stay.

She shoved me away from her so I was knocked to the floor and her eyes narrowed into slits. "I don't know what goes on inside that head of yours," she said each word felt like a knife in my chest, "but I'm not going to be some substitute for your mother or whatever. There's nothing I can or _want_ to do for you. It won't make a difference which one of us you choose. I'm not going to take care of you and neither will Olaf. You're on your own."

She turned away and marched onto the elevator. Carmelita stuck her tongue out at me.

"Stupid, cakesniffer," she spat and then followed behind Esmé. The elevator doors closed and Esmé disappeared—vanishing from my life and there was no way of knowing if or when I would see her again.

Nothing. That was all I felt. _Nothing._ I was numb and frozen. It felt like my heart was breaking all over again. How much more of this could I take? How many more times would I feel the sting of betrayal? How many more people would abandon me the momen I needed them the most?

"I apologize for the delay," Olaf was saying, "but in just a few moments my orphan will be holding the gun and threaten to shoot you. Isn't that exciting? Jamie quit stalling and finish your job. I believe we have a little deal between the two of us too. Don't make me have to remind you."

I turned to walk back over to Olaf and clenched my fists, trying to keep from bursting into tears.

"Esmé is a_ terrible_ woman," Olaf said, putting a hand on my head. "I'm glad I fired her. Now, why don't we pick up where we left off?"

Olaf handed me the gun but I hesitated.

"Didn't you hear me?" Olaf said, "Point the gun at the sub-sub librarian this instant!"

Olaf noticed how terrified I was and leaned down so his face was level with mine.

"Remember what the Baudelaires did to you," he said in a low voice, "remember how you felt when bookworm kissed Triangle Eyes. Remember how the Baudelaires _abandoned_ you. Remember, you're _strangers _now."

I did remember how I felt in those moments. I recalled the terrible instant when Klaus had said we were no longer friends, breaking my heart. I remembered the fateful moment when I had hurried over to the Queequeg only to have my heart broken further as I watched Klaus kiss Fiona, proving that not even Klaus could care for a poor orphan like me. I remembered the ache in my heart when Olaf had forced me to realize that they had abandoned me just like everyone else I ever knew. Just like Esmé. As hard as I tried to keep it in, my eyes filled with tears.

"Come on, Blondie," Olaf said, though his voice was more of that tone when he was trying to sound sympathetic. He placed a hand on my head. "Aren't you tired of letting people walk all over you? You've been treated so terribly. What have you got to lose?"

I nodded and then faced the volunteers. Jerome Squalor, Dewey Denouement, and Justice Strauss stood with the people I used to think of as my friends. But Olaf was right. I didn't have anything to lose by doing this. I never had anything to lose. Nothing. Slowly, but a little shakily I began to raise the gun and aimed it at Dewey.

The Baudelaires' eyes widened at me when they saw what I was doing. Even the volunteers were surprised.

"Don't do it Jane," I heard him say.

"Meeba!" Sunny shrieked.

"We don't want to lose you like we've lost so many others," Violet said, tears filling her eyes.

"Quiet orphans! Give me the phrases you sub-sub-librarian," Olaf sneered, "or this little girl will shoot you."

"You won't find anything in the laundry room," Dewey said, "except piles of dirty sheets, a few washing and drying machines, and some extremely flammable chemicals."

"I may have a handsome, youthful glow," Olaf snarled, "but I wasn't born yesterday! Ha! If there's nothing in the laundry room, why did you put a V.F.D. lock on the door?"

"Perhaps it's just a decoy," Dewey said.

"Decoy?" Olaf said.

"'Decoy' is a word with several meanings," Dewey explained. "It can refer to a corner of a pond where ducks can be captured, or to an imitation of a duck or other animal used to attract a real specimen. Or, it can mean something used to distract people, such as a lock on a door that does not contain a certain sugar bowl."

"If the lock is a decoy, sub-sub," Count Olaf sneered, "then you won't mind telling me how to open it."

"Very well," Dewey said. I could see the fear in his eyes and that made pointing the gun at his chest harder. "The first phrase is a description of a medical condition that all three Baudelaire children share."

I saw the Baudelaires share a smile and I understood immediately what the answer must be.

"The second phrase is the weapon that left you an orphan, Olaf," Dewey said.

The Baudelaires shared a frown and I couldn't help wearing a similar expression.

"The third," Dewey said, "is the famous unfathomable question in the best-known novel by Richard Wright."

I glanced at Klaus out of the corner of my eyes but he was slowly shaking his head.

"And the fourth," Dewey said, "is the full name of the first born Murray sister."

"I don't have time to medically examine the Baudelaires," Olaf said, "or shove my face into any best-known novels!"

"Wicked people never have time for reading," Dewey said. "It's one of the reasons for their wickedness."

"I've had enough of your games!" Count Olaf roared. "Ha! If I don't hear the exact phrases used to open the lock by the time I count to ten, Jamie will fire the harpoon gun and tear you to shreds!"

"You don't have to do this Jamie," Jerome said to me. "You can still stand with us, in the name of justice instead of working for this monster."

"_I'm_ the monster?" Olaf said, "_You're_ the monsters! Jamie and the Baudelaires tried to warn you about me but you _never_ listened. It was too easy for me to snatch this little orphan from you and she's going to make me a very rich man. Don't listen to this fool, Blondie. You know by now that everyone will only make you suffer."

"You should do what's right in this world, Jamie," Justice Strauss said, "I spent years as a horse thief before realizing—"

"I don't want to hear your boring stories," Count Olaf snarled. "The only thing I want to hear are the four exact phrases from Dewey's mouth, or his destiny will be death by harpoon, as soon as I say the number ten. _One!"_

Everything seemed to slow down as I contemplated my decision. But as much as I thought about it, Count Olaf was right. They did abandon me. Just like my parents, just like Mr. Poe, just like Esmé, just like everyone I'd ever known. It seemed like I belonged on the bad side of V.F.D. because I was unloved and clearly unwanted. What was it worth trying to be good all of the time? Maybe Monty Kensicle thought it was wrong to think that but I couldn't help it.

"Stop!" Justice Strauss cried. "In the name of the law!"

_"Two!"_

As I reflected on everything that had happened leading up to this moment, I was just so angry that I felt as if I _wanted_ to shoot the harpoon. But I knew it wasn't Dewey that I wanted to kill. The person I wanted to kill the most was the man with a beard but no hair. I was more than just afraid of him, I was angry. Maybe if I pretended Dewey was the man with the beard but no hair, it would be easier.

"Stop!" Jerome Squalor pleaded. "In the name of injustice!"

"_Three!"_

_"Stop!" _Violet ordered. Klaus and Sunny nodded in firm agreement. Silently, they let go of the adults' hands and stepped in front of Dewey, protecting him from harm.

"You can't harpoon this man, Jamie," Klaus said to me. "You'll have to harpoon us first."

"Or," Sunny said, "put down gun."

Dewey Denouement looked speechless. I looked fearfully from the Baudelaires to Count Olaf. He just looked disdainfully at my former friends. "I wouldn't mind harpooning you either, orphans," he said, his eyes shining bright. "I'm sure Jamie will want her revenge. Ha! _Four!"_

"Please don't do this Jane," Klaus begged. "This isn't who you are."

"Maybe it is," I said, "Besides, you think I'm a murderer. This shouldn't surprise you then."

Violet took a step towards me. I hadn't moved the gun from pointing at Dewey's chest, but now that Violet moved in front of him the gun was pointed at her chest, which was unsettling. It was hard enough to have to shoot this man I barely knew. I couldn't imagine firing on Violet or Sunny or Klaus despite everything. But if I didn't go through with it, Count Olaf would make good on his promise to let the man with a beard but no hair have me. I was afraid and I didn't know what to do. "Lay down the weapon, Jane," Violet said gently. "I know you don't want to do this wicked thing."

I blinked, but I kept my aim as steady as I could. "Of course she does," Olaf said from behind me. "If the sub-sub doesn't tell us how to get the sugar bowl, then Jamie will pull the trigger no matter who's standing in front of us! Ha! _Five!"_

"I know the truth now," Klaus said. "Every bit of it. I read your diary so now I know everything. I know you didn't kill anyone."

"That doesn't change anything," I said but my voice shook. "It's far too late for me to go back."

Klaus took a step forward so he stood beside Violet. "It's not too late. You still have a choice, Jane," he said. "You can choose not to pull that trigger!"

"And you can choose death by harpoon!" Count Olaf cried. _"Six!"_

"I like you too, Jane," Klaus said, "I do. Maybe more than I should. I know I shouldn't have waited so long to tell you but I could never find the words. And every time I tried to tell you, Olaf would snatch you away again."

"Well if that's how you felt about me," I said, "then why would you have more faith in the hook-handed man than me. And why would you kiss Fiona?"

"I'm sorry," Klaus said, "I know both things were wrong but I was just hurt and confused. So many people have failed us and I was afraid. I'm sorry."

"Please," Sunny said standing beside her older brother and sister. Together, the Baudelaires walked closer and closer to me, while shielding Dewey.

_"Seven!"_

"I forgive you, Jane," Klaus said, "And if you want, I'll take the blame for everything. I just want you to lower the gun and stand with us again."

I felt tears pouring from my eyes as I shook my head. "I _can't_," I said,

_"Please," _Sunny said again. The Baudelaires walked slowly but steadily toward me.

_"Eight!"_

"Please," Klaus said as they walked closer. "I don't want to lose you again."

"Ignore the bookworm, Jamie," Olaf said, "They've done you so much wrong. Make them suffer the way you did your entire life."

At that moment, all I wanted was to get _out_—I wanted an _end_ for this misery. I was tired.

_"Nine!"_

But as much as I tried to convince myself, I knew killing Dewey wouldn't do anything to make everything else go away. Blaming him for my suffering just because it seemed like it might alleviate my pain was wrong.

The Baudelaires reached me and put their hands on the harpoon.

"I have to do it," I said desperately. "He'll hurt me if I don't. Please just get out of the way."

"Let go, Jane," Klaus said, "Everything will be okay. No one is going to hurt you."

"Give us the gun," Violet said. "It's not your destiny to do this treacherous deed."

"Give us the gun," Klaus said. "It's not your destiny to be a wicked person."

_ "La Forza del Destino," _Sunny said.

"They abandoned you, Jamie," Olaf whispered in my ear. "They're not your friends. They never will be. They're just trying to mess with your head so you won't kill the triplet. Now, when I say ten, you _shoot_. There's no other option. Do it or I'll make you suffer."

Again, I recalled all the pain I had endured in the last few days because of the Baudelaires.

But then another flood of memories blocked out all the pain. Most of them included Klaus. I remembered the day we first met. I remembered the small amount of time at the New York Boarding school when we played in the snow and drank hot chocolate before Alfonso arrived. I remembered when Klaus had convinced me to sing at the Company show even though I was afraid to. I remembered his performance of "Open Arms" and how surprised I was that he might share my feelings. I remembered the time at the Squalor's when I visited Klaus' favorite bookstore before Gunther arrived and spoiled everything. I remembered when Klaus and I had sat in the unfinished half of the hospital wing, finding comfort because despite all our hardships, we had each other. That small merciful moment had been about us. I remembered when Klaus appeared on Mount Fraught and how I had run to him, filled with a kind of happiness that I had never felt. I was so ecstatic to see that he was alive that nothing else had mattered.

This couldn't really be my destiny, right? I never asked for any of this and it seemed like there was no way out. But if those memories were as joyful as they felt to me, then there had to be more happiness out there for me…something that would give me some kind of purpose—a reason for putting out fires, instead of fighting them. Yet as I looked from Violet to Klaus and then to Sunny, I realized that the only way I could find that happiness again was if I stood with them again. I thought about the Hogwarts letter and I knew in my heart that this future wasn't mine. There _was_ something else out there for me other than this life of crime.

Those joyful memories must be some sign that I really did have another option. And maybe that was it—maybe _that's_ why trying to be noble had been so worth it. Our lives were full of misery. But those woeful times made the cheerful times even brighter. That kind of happiness I felt during each memory was something that no one could take away from me. Not Olaf, not Esmé, not Ernest, not the woman with hair but no beard, not even the man with a beard but no hair. No one. So it didn't matter what happened to me in the next few days in consequence of my decision. I would just have to be strong and do the right thing even if I was afraid to. I wasn't a murderer. I knew there was a better destiny for me. And that destiny would begin with a choice. _"Ten!" _Olaf roared the last number. The Baudelaires, Jerome, Justice Strauss, and Dewey braced their selves as they waited for the click and swoosh of the harpoon. But I was unable to move.

"Didn't you hear me, Blondie?" Olaf cried in my ear, "I said _ten_! Now fire!"

"No," I said, softly to myself. "No!" I cried, trying to push past my fear. With that, I lowered the gun. The Baudelaires, Jerome, Justice Strauss, and Dewey all sighed in relief.

"What are you doing?" Olaf growled. "Fire this instant or you're fired!"

"No!" I cried again. "You might think this is who I am, but you're wrong. It doesn't matter who my parents were or the kind of person Esmé is. I'm not them. I'm my own person and I'll decide what _my_ destiny will be. Because _I _have a choice."

"You don't have any choices," Olaf said, "And soon you'll have nothing. Now shoot the man and I'll deal with you later."

"I said _no!_" I said louder, pulling my shoulders back and then I lowered my voice. "You were right," I said. "I have lost nearly everything but I don't want to lose myself too."

Olaf's lip curled up into a sneer. "I knew you would turn out to be nothing but a traitor," Olaf growled. "Just like your mother."

Olaf reached for the gun but I didn't want him to have it. I knew if I let go, he would fire and Dewey or one of the Baudelaires would get hurt.

"No!" I cried. "Let go!"

Olaf roared furiously and yanked the gun so hard that I fell back against the floor. Olaf stumbled back himself, the gun slipping from his grasp. The Baudelaires tried to the catch it but each missed in their attempts. It landed on the floor with a thud and I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it wouldn't go off.

There was silence.

I opened my eyes. The gun lay only inches away. I worried that Olaf would grab it and finish the job.

I crawled forward and my hand closed carefully around the gun.

A very loud coughing noise made me glance up at a figure wearing pajamas with drawings of money all over them. He wore a surprised expression on his face. At that moment, there was an unmistakable _click! _

"_No!"_ I gasped in horror as the harpoon sailed through the air. I concentrated my gaze on the harpoon as it traveled and suddenly, I felt a surge of energy within me. The harpoon seemed to waver slightly and shifted over so it was aiming for Dewey's lung rather than his heart. I concentrated more, hoping I could use whatever powers I had to save Dewey's life. But I was far too late and the harpoon struck Dewey all the same.

"What's going on?" Mr. Poe demanded. "I could hear people arguing all the way from Room 174. What in the world-" and in that instant he stopped, and gazed in horror the four of us. "Baudelaires! Miss Rumary!" he gasped. But while he gasped, so did the rest of us. I gasped, and Violet gasped, and Klaus gasped, and Sunny gasped, and Justice Strauss and Jerome Squalor gasped, and Hugo, Colette, and Kevin gasped, and even Count Olaf gasped, which was very unusual. However, Dewey's gasp was the loudest—even louder than the _Wrong!s _of the hotel's clock as it struck two. _Wrong! Wrong! _the clock thundered, but all I heard was Dewey's pain-filled gasp. I watched in mute horror as he stumbled backward through the lobby, one hand on his chest, and the other clutching the tail end of the harpoon.

_"Dewey!" _Violet cried.

_"Dewey!" _Klaus cried.

_"Denouement!" _Sunny cried.

As for me, I was speechless—too filled with dread to find words to comprehend what I was witnessing and knowing that it was my fault.

Dewey silently stumbled backward and out of the hotel. The Baudelaires ran after him after a moment, distraught and afraid. I heard a _splash! _from the edge of the pond. I wondered if Dewey had fallen in there.

It didn't matter though. At that moment, all I wanted to do was run as far away from here as I could. And that's what I began to do. My legs took off, propelling me to who knows where. I had to get out of here. I had to escape. It was my entire fault and Dewey had to be the one to pay for my mistakes.

I ran outside and across the lawn, feeling dizzy and lost. But my foot caught on a root from the tree and I fell onto the hard earth. I sat up though I found I didn't have the strength to stand. Instead, I burst into tears, my chest heaving with each heart-wrenching sob.

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**Review! **

**And thanks for your input on the whether Violet should be magic! I think she'll be better off as a muggle :)**


	11. Inevitable Fate

**Finally a new chapter! And getting close to the end of TPP! :)**

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**Chapter Eleven: Inevitable Fate**

A figure emerged from behind the tree, standing before me as I sobbed. I was so immersed with what I had just seen that it took me a moment to realize someone was there. I interrupted my tears to glance up nervously.

"M-Monty?" I stuttered in confusion. "What are you doing out here?"

"I heard the commotion," he said, "and I had to check it out. I saw what happened. Everything."

"Oh," I said, looking down at the ground, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry I let you down."

Monty sighed. "I understand what you were going through," he said, he held out his hand and helped me to my feet. "A child at your age shouldn't have to face such circumstances. But I'm not here to condemn you for your actions. I've been able to learn some information. Justice Strauss has planned for you, the Baudelaires, and Count Olaf are all being tried by the High Court."

I frowned. "But what if they don't see Count Olaf's to blame for everything?" I said. "I didn't mean to kill Dewey. But he threatened me. And then…"

Monty bent down and put a finger to my lips. "I know," he said firmly. "But they don't know that."

"Do you have all the evidence we need to convince them that Olaf is guilty?" I asked.

"I have evidence," Monty said. "and I'll be present at the trial…but if things go wrong I'll be leaving before the authorities arrive to block the exits."

"So…if I don't see you," I said quietly. "Then all hope…is lost."

Monty frowned and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Yes," he said, gravely. "Though, there is another way."

"What's that?" I asked.

"You could come with me now," Monty said, "I could take you somewhere faraway from here—somewhere safe."

I brightened. "Really?" I said, glancing back at the hotel. The Baudelaires were still crouched at the pond. Guests were yelling frantically as mob psychology took over. The lobby was already swarming with guests and employees and employers and villains and volunteers. "I could leave all of this behind?" I said.

"If that's what you want," Monty Kensicle said.

But as I thought about it, my eyes moved to the Baudelaires again, watching as they looked around in despair. Could I really leave them to face this all by theirselves? They've left me behind numerous times…but I knew being bitter and resentful would only make things worse. Particularly, after what happened.

"I'm sorry," I said, finally. "But I can't go with you. Running away from my problems won't do any good. I have to face it no matter how difficult."

Monty nodded. "I admire your bravery," he said, "good luck to you. I do hope things turn out."

I knew he genuinely hoped I would have a better future, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. He was afraid things wouldn't be okay. Frankly, I was too.

"Remember," Monty said, "you determine your destiny. Don't let others decide it for you."

"I'll try," I said, "but I can't make any promises. I'll probably just end up breaking it."

Monty nodded, sadly. "It's a shame," he said, "that this world has turned so cold."

"I'm sorry I failed you," I said.

"You—" Monty began but he was interrupted by a sharp voice calling my name from the top of the stairs to the lobby's entrance. There was a fit of coughing, and I glanced over to see Mr. Poe. He glanced from where I stood to where the Baudelaires were standing. He was covering his mouth with a white handkerchief. I glanced worriedly to where Monty had been standing but he was gone.

"What has happened?" Mr. Poe asked. "Where is that man you four shot with the harpoon?"

I glanced toward the pond. "He's dead," I said. I walked over to stand near the Baudelaires, I avoided looking directly at them, afraid that they were angry with me.

Mr. Poe coughed again in astonishment, and then stepped down the stairs and stood in front of us. "Dead!" he said. "How did that happen?"

"It's difficult to say," Klaus said, looking at me.

"Difficult to say?" Mr. Poe frowned. "But I saw you. All four of you. You three were holding the weapon and Miss Rumary held it before it fired. Surely you can tell me what happened."

"I didn't mean to do it," I said, feeling tears streaming down my face. "It's not what it looked like. I was trying to stop it."

"You'd better come inside," he said, with a weary sigh. "I must say I'm very disappointed in you children. When I was in charge of your affairs, no matter how many homes I found for you, terrible things occurred. Then, when you decided to handle your own affairs, _The Daily Punctilio _brought more and more news of your treachery with each passing day. And now that I've found you again, I see that once more an unfortunate event has occurred, and another guardian is dead. You should be ashamed of yourselves."

"_We_ should be ashamed?" I said, in frustration. I almost couldn't believe the words that spilled from my mouth like vomit. "I think _you're_ the one who should be ashamed. It's thanks to _you_ that I've been in Count Olaf's clutches for several horrible months. It's thanks to _you_ that the Baudelaires were sent to that village and whose citizens tried to burn them at the stake. It's thanks to you that they had no choice but to survive on their own when no one else would help them. It's thanks to you that Violet almost had her head removed as apart of Olaf's scheme to get our fortunes. It's thanks to you that the Baudelaires were almost eaten by lions and almost fell off a mountain. So before you tell_ us_ to be ashamed, maybe _you_ should think about the misery _you _put_ us _through!"

Mr. Poe frowned. "That was very rude Miss Rumary," he said. "I apologize for not finding you sooner. But I did everything I could."

"Well it wasn't enough. And Jane Rumary isn't even my name," I muttered. "I'm not Jane Rumary. I'm Jamie Murray."

"Enough with this nonsense Jane," Mr. Poe said, "You know there are people who say that criminal behavior is the destiny of children from a broken home. Perhaps such people are right."

"This isn't our destiny," Klaus said. I couldn't help but nod in agreement as Mr. Poe merely gave him a sad, stern look, and kept pushing us. We were led to the lobby where there was a crowd waiting to ambush us.

"There they are!" roared someone from the back of the room. Every person in the lobby was looking directly at us. Everyone was wearing pajamas, nightgowns, or other sleepwear, and was glaring at the us through eyes squinty from being awakened in the middle of the night. It is always interesting to observe what people are wearing in the middle of the night, although there are more pleasant ways to make such observations without being accused of murder. "Those are the murderers!"

"They're no ordinary murderers!" cried Geraldine Julienne, who was wearing a bright yellow nightshirt and had a shower cap over her hair. "They're the Baudelaire orphans!" She seemed to ignore the fact that I was with them.

A ripple of astonishment went through the crowd. "The Baudelaire orphans?" cried Sir, whose pajamas had the initials L. S. stenciled over the pocket, probably for "Lucky Smells." "I remember them! They caused accidents in my lumbermill!"

"The accidents weren't their fault!" Charles said, whose pajamas matched his partner's. "They were the fault of Count Olaf!"

"Count Olaf is another one of their victims!" cried a woman dressed in a bright pink bathrobe. The Baudelaires recognized her as Mrs. Morrow, one of the citizens of the Village of Fowl Devotees. "He was murdered right in my hometown!"

"That was Count Omar," said another citizen of the town, a man named Mr. Lesko who apparently slept in the same plaid pants he wore during the day.

"I'm sure the Baudelaires aren't murderers," said Jerome Squalor. "I was their guardian, and I always found them to be polite and kind."

"They were pretty good students, if I remember correctly," said Mr. Remora, who was wearing a nightcap shaped like a banana.

_"They were pretty good students, if I remember correctly,_" Vice Principal Nero mimicked. "They were nothing of the sort. Violet and Klaus flunked all sorts of tests, and Sunny was the worst administrative assistant I've ever seen!"

"I say they're criminals," Mrs. Bass said, adjusting her wig, "and criminals ought to be punished."

"Yes!" Hugo. "Criminals are too freakish to be running around loose!" "They're not criminals," Hal said firmly, "and I should know."

"So should I," retorted Esme Squalor, "and I say they're guilty as sin." Her long, silver fingernails rested on the shoulder of Carmelita Spats, who was glaring at the four of us as we passed.

"I think they're guiltier than that!" said one of the hotel bellboys. "

I think they're even guiltier than you think they are!" cried another.

"I think they look like nice kids!" said someone we didn't recognize.

"I think they look like vicious criminals!" said another person.

"I think they look like noble volunteers!" said another.

"I think they look like treacherous villains!"

"I think they look like concierges!"

"One of them looks a bit like my mother!"

_Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! _The lobby seemed to shake as the clock struck three in the morning. By now, Mr. Poe had escorted us to a far corner of the lobby, where either Frank or Ernest was waiting next to the door marked 121 with a grim expression on his face as the last _Wrong! _echoed in the enormous room.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The children turned to see Justice Strauss, who was standing on one of the wooden benches so she could be seen and clapping her hands for attention.

"Please settle down! The matter of the Baudelaires' guilt or innocence is not for you to decide."

"That doesn't seem fair," remarked a man in pajamas with a pattern of salmon swimming upstream. "After all, they woke us up in the middle of the night."

"The case is a matter for the High Court," Justice Strauss said. "The authorities have been notified, and the other judges of the court are on their way. We will be able to begin the trial in a matter of hours."

While everyone was busy listening to Justice Strauss, I managed to slip away from Mr. Poe and began to search for an exit. Perhaps I should leave and get out of this mess as quickly as I could.

"Come with me little girl," a voice said from behind me. I whirled and faced a tall man who must have been either Frank or Ernest.

He grabbed my arm and started to tow me in the opposite direction. I planted my feet, realizing that I shouldn't trust this man. He might be Ernest.

"Why?" I demanded, grounding my feet.

"I knew your mother," he said, as if that was proof enough.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "I still don't trust you."

It was definitely Ernest because he began pulling on my arm and as much as I tried to resist, I couldn't. "I'm doing a favor for Olaf actually. The trial will begin soon."

"There's nothing to try except that Olaf is guilty," I said.

"Where's your proof?" Ernest challenged, his dark eyes gleaming.

I wanted to blurt that I did in fact have evidence but I knew it wouldn't be good for someone dangerous to know that.

Instead, I thought of something else to say.

"Why don't you ask your brother?" I said. "He died because of Olaf."

Ernest stopped for a moment and looked down at me in surprise but then his eyes narrowed. "Dewey was no brother of mine," he muttered and I sighed. It seemed so sad that the Denouement brothers had been split by this schism. I thought of the Quagmires and couldn't imagine how heartbreaking it would be if one of them changed sides.

"You can keep telling yourself that," I said, "but it won't change what happened. He was your brother and one day you'll look back with regret. You can burn down homes and steal money but there is nothing more important in this world than family."

Ernest Denouement glared at me. He pulled me roughly to a door, opened it up, and threw me inside with a chuckle. The door closed again and I found myself in a large closet filled with supplies for guests. Count Olaf was in the room. He sat against the wall looking at a piece of paper that he was writing on.

He stopped when he saw me, a cruel smirk appeared on his face.

"Why thank you, Ernest," he said. Ernest grinned and then nodded before closing the door behind us. It locked and I stayed nervously by the door, afraid now that I was trapped in a room with Count Olaf.

"Well, well, well," he said, "look who came crawling back." He got up off the floor so he now towered over me.

"I didn't come here out of my own will," I said, "Ernest forced me to come here."

"Well we have been associates for quite some time now," Olaf said. "He always knows exactly what I want. Now that you're here, you can help me with my plans."

I would have glowered at Olaf but I just wasn't in the mood at the moment. Actually I wasn't in the mood for anything. "Just because we're in the same room doesn't mean I'm still on your side," I said in a quiet voice. I crossed my arms, as if I was annoyed. Really I was just trying to pull myself together so I wouldn't fall apart.

"You never know," Count Olaf said, "we'll be in this room for a while. I'm a very attractive man and I can be very persuading as you already know." He winked, making me shudder.

"What about before?" I said. "I refused to shoot Dewey and you were pretty angry with me. Why am I still your accomplice?"

"Well," he said. "I realize I may have taken things too far with you. After all, you're still learning and murder can be sticky for newcomers. I'm going to give you another chance and find you a job that will better suit you for the time being."

"Well, I don't want another chance," I said. "I'm done being a villain."

"Oh, I think you will want another chance," Olaf said with shiny eyes. Still sitting, he leaned towards me, "once I tell you about my latest plan."

"There's nothing you can say to change my mind," I said firmly.

"Let's just say if you refuse to be my henchwoman, then I'll still take you with me as my orphan prisoner," he said. "I just thought I would be generous and offer you this exciting opportunity."

"You won't get away with me if you lose the trial," I said, "which you probably will."

Olaf laughed. "Silly, girl," he said, "don't you know it's innocent until _proven_ guilty? The only evidence is gone. Besides, _you_ were the one holding the gun when it fired."

"I didn't pull the trigger," I said furiously because I knew deep inside that no matter how I looked at it, Dewey's death was partly my fault.

"Maybe not," Olaf said, "but no one else knows that."

"I'll just tell them you made me do it," I said, feeling my throat tighten as if the Medusoid Mycellium was choking me to death. "because that's the truth."

"It doesn't matter," Olaf said, "Not without a certain piece of evidence. As I said, the evidence you need is gone."

"Which is?" I pressed.

"The Snicket File, of course," Olaf said, "And as soon as I get my hands on the sugarbowl…which is in the laundry room as we speak."

"There's also evidence that the Baudelaire's and I are witnesses of all the horrible things you've done," I said. I was so tempted to mention the owl figurine, the tape I stole, my notebook, and Monty Kensicle's books. But Monty warned me not to do so. "Maybe we didn't witness all the crimes you committed in the past but I did witness you brutally murder Jacques Snicket."

Olaf's eyes grew very shiny and he took a step forward.

"I thought I told you not to mention that _ever_ again," he said in a terrible voice. I shrunk back against the wall. Then he sneered, "Do you really think the jury is going to listen to _you_? You should know by now that no one _ever_ listens to children. They're more likely to believe that an award winning actor is innocent."

"Just because you were in a couple of movies and plays doesn't mean they won't suspect you," I said, "Tons of famous people have gone to jail."

"Maybe," Count Olaf muttered, "but the judges aren't exactly your friends. Except for that stupid woman, Justice Strauss. She was always a lousy neighbor."

"Maybe to _you_," I said, "but you were probably a lousy neighbor to _her_ so I think you're even."

"True," Olaf admitted, looking amused that he was the source of someone's suffering. "As I was saying, I'm very good friends with the other two judges. I believe you've met them. One in particular recently did something _terrible _to you in a certain storage room and the other tried to kill you."

"You mean…" I trailed off. I shuddered and gaped. Not the sinister duo! "How did they get to become judges? They like law as much as you like me and the Baudelaire's."

"You can ask Justice Strauss that question," Olaf said, smiling triumphantly, "She's the one who was stupid enough to believe that they were actually noble people who cared about the Baudelaire's. She never knew you so she didn't exactly help there, but she gave my associates some good advice."

"Like what?" I asked, curiously.

"She was the one who helped me find you and the Baudelaire's every time except for when they became fugitives, of course," Olaf said.

"How could she not sense their menace?" I said, "I get chills just thinking about them. Then again, I thought that scary woman was Mrs. Marshall and she tried to kill me."

"So you see," Olaf said, "there's no hope for you or those idiotic Baudelaires. You might as well give up and join me while you can. I won't be so generous once V.F.D. is destroyed along with every piece of evidence against me."

I bit my lip and averted my eyes. I thought of what Monty had said. If I didn't see him at the trial then it meant that it wasn't the right time to use the evidence we gathered. It meant that the villains would win and there was no hope. Now that the sinister duo were judges, it seemed like Olaf was right and there was no way to send him to jail, at least not today. But I knew that if the trial didn't go successfully today, then there wouldn't _be_ any more trials. Never again would Olaf be sent to jail because V.F.D. would be destroyed. Except for the secret headquarters of course.

"I know what you're thinking, Jamie," Count Olaf said, coming over to me. "You're thinking about that Monty Kensicle, aren't you? Well, if I see that man, I won't hesitate to kill him."

"I was thinking about him," I admitted, "but that's only because I realized that…I don't…have evidence."

Count Olaf grinned and patted my head. "No you don't," he said. "And soon no one will."

"I guess not," I said, sadly.

"So have you decided?" Count Olaf said.

"I don't know," I said, "I still have the Baudelaires to think about."

"But if you choose to be on their side," Olaf said, "There's a big chance that the Baudelaires won't be very forgiving of the terrible things you've done. They probably think you killed Dewey. Remember how they treated you when they thought you killed Madame Lulu? What will they do now that once again they think you killed their friend?"

I tried to convince myself that they would forgive me but I wasn't so sure. I saw the looks on their faces when Dewey was shot. They were filled with such despair. Nothing could save our friendship this time. It was the second time that I almost killed someone—to think that I was actually capable of such a thing…it made me afraid—afraid because I didn't know if I could trust myself.

"You're all alone," Olaf said, "just like before. Not even Esmé wants you now."

"I guess you're right…" I said but then I thought of Melissa and what Esmé had said about being independent, "but I can do it alone. I'm willing to take that risk…I've been alone all my life. I can handle it."

"Don't let your own pride fool you into thinking you'll be able to survive on your own," he said, though I can't imagine why he would call that _pride_. He took another step towards me. "You were by yourself for only a few minutes and my associate nearly got away with stealing your_ innocence_ or whatever. Not to mention how you're now trapped in this room with me. And I'm never letting_ you_ escape."

"So," I said, quietly, "How is going with you going to make things better?"

"It's true," Olaf said placing a spidery hand on my shoulder, "You may not be entirely happy joining me. But as I said, I can provide you with protection from people like that. I need you to be a healthy orphan so I can get your fortune and so you can help me with my plans."

"Well," I said, "your bald associate nearly got away with harming me and you've hurt me loads of times. There wasn't much protection for me then."

"That's only because you weren't my henchwoman at that time," Olaf said.

"Why do you still want me on your side anyways?" I said, crossing my arms.

"I told you that I wanted to give you another chance," Olaf said, "I suppose what I'm really asking you is whether you want to come with me as my accomplice and live or come with me as my prisoner and live until I can get your fortune. But of course, there are worse things than death."

I sighed and nodded. "That's certainly true," I said softly, staring hard at the wall behind Olaf. "Watching someone you care about die is much worse."

Olaf looked at me and narrowed his eyes. I still kept my gaze on the wall, shuddering once again for my involvement in ending a life. I could imagine the disappointed look on Jacques Snicket's face if he were alive to learn of the terrible things I've done. "For once I agree," he said.

"I've had time to think about it and you can say whatever you want to persuade me," I said, "but I don't think I'll ever be able to work for you. You killed Jacques Snicket before my very eyes and it makes me sick to think that I would work for someone who did something so horrible. I've made a terrible mistake."

"Maybe," Olaf said, "but as I mentioned earlier, at least your life wouldn't be in danger."

"How can I know that for sure?" I said. "How can I know that you're telling the truth? You honestly won't kill me once you get my fortune?"

"Only if you provoke me," Olaf said, "or if you're just a prisoner. But if you choose my side then you'll get to live with me while I enjoy your fortune and the Baudelaires' fortune. If you're extra good, I might even consider buying you a guitar or something."

"A guitar?" I said glancing up at him briefly but I caught myself before I got too carried away by the idea. "Anything bought with that money once you have it would be tainted with your treachery. When I think about it, it doesn't seem like living with you for the rest of my life would be so great. I think I'd rather you kill me."

"Well you don't know that," Olaf said, leaning forward and grabbing my chin so I couldn't look away. "I can be very exciting to be around. I think crimes are exciting and you just might too. But never mind that, we can talk more about the future once I've destroyed V.F.D. Now, we need to talk about my latest plan. Are you with me or not?"

I chewed my lip. "I don't know," I said, "Do I have to decide right now?"

"I would prefer _it_," Olaf muttered, irritably.

I sighed. "So I'm going with you no matter what?" I said. "How will you be able to snatch me during the trial?"

"Uh-uh," Olaf said, "I'm not going to tell you any part of my plan until you've agreed to help me."

I sighed. "Fine," I said.

"Are you joining me?" Olaf asked.

I shrugged. "I still don't know," I said, "I need some time to think about it."

"Well we have several hours to wait in this storage room," Olaf said, "As if we're the ones who should be locked away. The Baudelaires are really the monsters!"

There was a sudden knock on the door, interrupting our conversation. Olaf went to answer it and Ernest was back.

"I need a moment alone to discuss the very important matters at hand," Ernest said.

"Of course," Olaf said with a sly look. "Stay here orphan and when I get back, you better have made up your mind."

Olaf left the room. I was alone now. I was always alone.

Olaf's words were convincing the way they were when he persuaded me to join him the first time. But I knew if I didn't find a way to block them out, I wouldn't be able to think clearly. I couldn't be fooled again or be cornered by fear.

"_Falling a thousand feet per second_," I began to sing quietly to myself.

"_You still take me by surprise _

_I just know we can't be over_

_I can see it in your eyes_

_Making every kind of silence_

_Takes a lot to realize _

_It's worse to finish than to start all over _

_And never let it lie_

_And as long as I can feel you holding on _

_I won't fall _

_Even if you said I was wrong."_

I remembered how Klaus had said that he had read my journal and now he knew everything. He had admitted that he felt the same way about me. But did he mean that? Or did he just feel guilty about not believing me and wanted to stop me from killing Dewey? Even if it were the truth that he shared my feelings. Did that really change anything? That instant when the harpoon fired changed everything. I knew our relationship was probably irreparable now that I was the one who was touching the gun when it fired. Maybe I didn't pull the trigger but that didn't mean I wasn't at all responsible for Dewey's death. Olaf was right when he said the Baudelaires probably wouldn't forgive me now. This time I was with them because I knew it really was my doing. I really was a murderer.

"_I'm not perfect, _

_But I keep trying _

_Cause that's what I said I would do from the start _

_I'm not alive if I'm lonely, _

_So please don't leave _

_Was it something I said or just my personality?" _

My thoughts moved to the noble side of V.F.D. and what it represented. I thought about the Baudelaires shielding Dewey from harm while the adults did nothing. I thought of how Mr. Poe nearly gave us away to Olaf numerous times and did nothing when we tried to reach out to him. It wasn't so much the Baudelaires that I was irritated with anymore. It saddened me that the people who were supposed to be depended on for help, abandoned us one way or another. The only people I knew or still know who hadn't betrayed us were Jacques and Lemony Snicket. Of course, I never knew Jacques long enough to understand the kind of person he was, but if the few moments were any indication of his character, then I could come to the conclusion that he was a noble man. Although Monty lied to me about his identity, I'm long over that. I understand that he was only trying to protect himself and me from Olaf's wrath. But if none of these other adults would stand up for us children when we needed them most, who would protect us?

"_Making every kind of silence, _

_It takes a lot to realize _

_Its worse to finish than to start all over and never let it lie_

_And as long as I can feel you holding on _

_I wont fall _

_Even if you said I was wrong_

_I know that I'm not perfect, _

_But I keep trying _

_Cause that's what I said I would do from the start _

_I'm not alive if I'm lonely, _

_So please don't leave _

_Was it something I said or just my personality?"_

Could the answer truly be a life of crime and violence? Could I manage on my own? Olaf had said if I went off on my own, I would only encounter more dangers. But maybe that was a risk I had to take. I wished there was a way to leave behind this society altogether. I was tired of the cruelty and the dangers that lurked in every shadow. I was being turned into someone I wasn't—a monster. I was afraid I was losing myself and if I didn't get out now, it would be too late.

"_When you're caught in a lie _

_And you've got nothing to hide _

_When you've got nowhere to run _

_And you've got nothing inside_

_It tears right through me_

_You thought that you knew me _

_You thought that you knew…_

_I know that I'm not perfect, _

_But I keep trying_

_Cause that's what I said I would do from the start_

_I'm not alive if I'm lonely,_

_So please don't leave _

_Was it something I said or just my personality?"_

I wanted to be good. I wanted to be good so bad now. I just wanted things to go back to the way they were before all our troubles began. But I couldn't. So while I desired to be noble, I really had no choice. I still couldn't go with the Baudelaires and Esmé walked away from me for what seemed like forever. I had no one else to depend on to help me. Besides Monty Kensicle and Melissa. But Monty Kensicle couldn't exactly take me with him anywhere. I knew he would think it was far too dangerous and where would we go? I didn't have anywhere to go to. I already declined the letter from Hogwarts. And either way Olaf would make sure that I would be going with him. Maybe settling for being a villain won't be so terrible. I know it can never bring me the happiness that was stolen from me when I lost my parents, but I knew I couldn't survive on my own.

"_I know that I'm not perfect, _

_But I keep trying _

_Cause that's what I said I would do from the start _

_I'm not alive if I'm lonely, _

_So please don't leave _

_Was it something I said?_

_Or just my, just my _

_Self, just myself _

_Myself, just myself_

_I'm not perfect but I keep trying."_

So I made my decision. If the adults wouldn't protect us, then I had to do it. I had to protect not only the Baudelaires, but also everyone in the lobby whose life could soon be in jeopardy, depending on Olaf's plan. Just like the song, maybe I haven't been on the right path. I knew the only way to fix it, was to keep trying to do the right thing. And I knew that my fate was inevitable—that I would have to go with Olaf as his accomplice. But perhaps being his accomplice could help me stop Count Olaf from hurting anyone and hopefully it would attempt to make up for what I did.

If Monty Kensicle wasn't at the trial, then my fate was set in stone.

* * *

**Review! :)**

**The song is called Perfect by Hedley! It's such a great song! You should listen to it if you don't already know it!**


	12. Justice Is Blind

**Another chapter! YAY! :)**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Justice is Blind**

"Wake up!" a scratchy voice yelled and I felt as if my arm was being yanked from its socket. My eyes shot open and I sat up, in confusion. The haze in my mind cleared and I remembered where I was.

I was in the storage room, waiting for the trial to begin. Olaf was towering over me and looked irritated as he tugged on my arm.

"I didn't say you could fall asleep!" he yelled.

"Stop pulling on my arm," I spat angrily. This wasn't the most pleasant way to wake up and that made me a little grouchy.

Olaf let go of my arm and I rubbed my tired eyes.

"What's so important?" I asked. "Is the trial starting?"

"Not quite," Olaf said. "But I need to know the answer to my question so we discuss my latest plans. So are you going to join me?"

I hesitated. Despite being groggy, I was still fully aware of my decision to join him. "…yes," I said.

Olaf's eyes grew shiny. "Excellent!" he said. "I knew you were. And now I can reveal my plans to you. Now, I learned that it's going to be a blindfolded trial," he said. "That means that everyone present has to wear a blindfold except for the judges. Anyone who removes his or her blindfold will be deemed guilty."

"No way," I said in despair. "Is that even legal? They're taking the expression justice is blind too literally."

"That's right," Olaf said, "And we're going to use that to our advantage. While you and the Baudelaires are busy describing their long, boring story, I'm going to be grabbing a hostage."

"Who?" I asked.

"Justice Strauss, of course," Olaf said. "She'll know the phrases to open the Vernacularly Fastened Door."

"Why a hostage?" I asked.

I sighed but I knew the sugar bowl wasn't in the laundry room so Olaf wouldn't get it.

"Okay," I said, "So what's next?"

"Then, we'll snatch the sugar bowl, grab the Medusoid Mycellium, poison everyone in the lobby, and then escape to freedom by pushing that boat off of the rooftop," Olaf said excitedly, "Every last one of those people will perish and you'll get revenge on my associates and everyone else who has ever harmed you. We'll escape as convicts but that isn't anything compared to the satisfaction of being triumphant and extremely wealthy. The Baudelaires will be with us too, since I still want their fortune but we can dispose of them later."

"How will you convince the Baudelaires to come with us?" I asked.

"I'm going to leave that to you," Olaf said. "You're going to cooperate up until you've told the beginning of the dreadful things that happened to you pathetic orphans. That will give me enough time to tie her up. When you feel a tap on your shoulder, tell one of the Baudelaires to follow you, remove your blindfold, and then follow _me _to the elevators. And by one Baudelaire, I mean only one. The other two can perish along with the rest of the people in the lobby."

"How will we get away with that?" I asked. "Won't the other judges declare you're guilty and catch you?"

"No," Olaf said. "The other two judges are associates of mine. In fact, I believe you recently had a very unsettling encounter with one of them only yesterday."

I gasped. "You mean the man with the beard but no hair and the woman with hair but no beard?" I asked suddenly frightened. "How did they become judges? They hate law."

"Us villains have our ways of making messes," Olaf said. "They became judges the same way any noble person would. But I'm afraid they're better at breaking the law rather than enforcing it. Justice Strauss believes they're good people and she's the one who's been helping me find you four time and time again. It's quite hilarious actually."

"I don't find that at all funny," I said. No wonder Monty was doubtful of the trial being a success.

"So," Olaf said, "are you set to put our plan into action?"

"I suppose," I said. "How are we going to escape?"

"The rooftop, of course," Olaf said. "We can get in Carmelita's boat and push it off the roof. We should land in the sea."

"Or we'll perish from the impact," I said, "falling from a great distance into water isn't as safe as you might think. It's like glass when you hit it."

"That's where your special powers will come in," Olaf said.

I raised my eyebrows.

"We both know that you have strange abilities," Olaf said, "That's part of the reason why I want you to be my henchwoman. Your little magic can help us land safely."

"You don't know that," I said, "I can't control it most of the time. I thought I could but all I can do is move things without touching them. The rest just happens."

"I saw the way you tried to move the harpoon," Olaf said with a grin. "I saw that little trick of yours. It's too bad for you that it didn't work."

I sighed. "Like I said, I don't know how to control it all the time," I said, "It's harder than it looks."

"Well figure it out," Olaf said. "If you value your life, you'll do it."

There was a knock on the door then and it opened. Ernest Denouement stood behind it holding two pieces of black cloth. His blindfold wasn't on yet and he gave us a questioning look.

Count Olaf turned to Ernest Denouement and grinned. "The orphan is on my side."

Ernest gave me a snide smile. "Don't mess up this time. The trial is starting. Unfortunately you will both have to put on these blindfolds."

Ernest handed Olaf the blindfolds. Olaf handed one to me and we put our blindfolds on. I loosened mine a little so I could still see a little bit if I looked down but it wasn't noticeable to anyone else. I didn't feel comfortable being in a room filled with villains and volunteers and police when I was vulnerable.

Count Olaf grabbed my wrist and began to lead me out of the room. Ernest walked with us wearing his blindfold. I wouldn't be surprised if he had loosened his too. Olaf probably wasn't wearing his properly either because he seemed to know exactly where he was going.

"Olaf," a deep, low voice called.

"Why, it's the judges of the High Court," Olaf said. I couldn't see that well but I could tell the sinister duo were standing only a few inches away. I felt myself beginning to panic knowing that the man with a beard but no hair could see but I could not. "What is it that you want?"

"After the trial," the woman said. "we'd like to have a word with your little orphan."

"I see," Olaf said, "but I'm afraid my accomplice and I will either be busy planning a fabulous party or leaving."

"You'd better not," the man growled. "All of our new recruits are gone because of this orphan not to mention how she attacked me with a bat."

Although Olaf was afraid of these people, he didn't seem too concerned about their threat. I suppose he thought they would be among the dead when he unleashed the poisonous mushroom.

"I know," Olaf said, his grip tightening on my arm. "But we can settle this after I've retrieved the sugar bowl. I've told you my plan."

"Yes," the woman said. "It's brilliant."

"And my orphan is my accomplice," Olaf said, "So she's going to be helping me."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Frank or Ernest said, "but I'm going to have to take the girl from you, Olaf."

I realized then that Ernest wasn't around and must have disappeared into the crowd. It must be Frank, "She needs to be taken to sit with the Baudelaire children in their stand."

"Fine," Olaf grumbled, "but she still belongs to me and her fortune."

"We'll settle that after the trial," Frank said.

Olaf squeezed my wrist before dropping it. He disappeared through the crowd.

"Hello," Frank said, "you're a friend of the Baudelaire's, correct?"

I shrugged. "I guess you could say that," I said, "we aren't exactly getting along at the moment."

"Alright then," he said, "Well, come on," he said, taking my hand and leading me forward, "I knew your mother from school and I was good friends with your father after that. It's a shame that we lost them."

"Yeah," I mumbled.

I could sort of see seas of people trying to find their seats despite not being able to see. I noticed Esmé and Carmelita were already at their seats. Esmé looked very tense next to Carmelita. I looked away quickly, as I felt a sharp pang in my heart.

Frank led me to the bench that the Baudelaire's were sitting on. All of them were staring straight ahead, anxiously awaiting the hearing.

"Your friend is here," Frank told them as he gestured for me to take a seat before he left. I did so, sitting next to Klaus. I glanced at the Baudelaire's out of the corner of my eyes. I was glad we wore blindfolds. I didn't want to see their angry expressions.

"Hi," I said, quietly, "How are you doing?"

"I'm worried," Violet said, "even though we're finally getting a chance to send Count Olaf to prison, I'm afraid that it might not end well."

"Me too," Klaus said.

"I'm sorry," I blurted.

"It wasn't your fault, Jane," Klaus said. "You didn't pull the trigger."

"It doesn't matter," I said, "I held the gun before it went off."

"We dropped it," Klaus argued. "We should have caught it."

"Why did you grab it?" Violet asked.

"I was trying to prevent Olaf from getting it first," I said. "I didn't want anyone to shoot Dewey. I'm sorry I failed."

"Keba," Sunny said meaning, "We forgive you, if you'll forgive us."

"I forgive you," I said but I felt sad saying it, knowing that soon I would have to join Olaf and leave two of them behind. I had to remind myself that the remaining two would survive because I was going to prevent Olaf from unleashing the poison. Maybe I could get all three of them to stay. The crowd would eventually notice Olaf's absence and the Baudelaires would win the trial. Not even the sinister duo could convince the crowd that Olaf was innocent if he had removed his blindfold.

"Attention!" The voice of Justice Strauss rang out over the crowd, along with the repeated banging of a gavel, a word, which refers to the small hammer used by judges when they want someone's attention. "Attention everyone! The trial is about to begin! Everyone please take your seats!"

"How can we take our seats," a man asked, "when we can't see them?"

"Feel around with your hands," Justice Strauss said. "Move to your right. Further. Further. Further. Furth-"

"Ow!"

"Not that far," the judge said. "There! Sit! Now the rest of you follow his lead!"

"How can we do what he did," asked someone else, "if we can't see him?"

"Can we peek?" asked another person.

"No peeking!" Justice Strauss said sternly. "Our system of justice isn't perfect, but it's the only one we have. I remind you that all three judges of the High Court are bare-eyed, and if you peek you will be guilty of contempt of court! 'Contempt,' by the way, is a word for finding something worthless or dishonorable."

"I know what the word 'contempt' means," snarled a voice I didn't recognize.

"I defined the word for the benefit of the children," Justice Strauss said. I nodded my thanks in the direction of her voice, but I already knew what that word meant.

Finally, it sounded as if everyone had been able to find their seats and with another few bangs of the gavel and calls for attention, the crowd settled down and Justice Strauss began the trial.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," she said, her voice sounding very near to us, "and anyone else who happens to be in attendance. It has come to the attention of the High Court that certain wicked deeds have gone unpunished, and that this wickedness is continuing at an alarming rate. We planned to hold a trial on Thursday, but after the death of Mr. Denouement it is clear we should proceed earlier, in the interests of justice and nobility. We will hear what each witness has to say and determine once and for all who is responsible. The guilty parties will be turned over to the authorities, who are waiting outside, making sure that no one will try to escape while the trial is in progress."

"And speaking of guilty parties," Count Olaf added, "when the trial is done. I am hosting a very in cocktail party, which everyone is invited to! Especially wealthy women are welcome!"

"_I'm _hosting it," snarled Esmé Squalor, "and fashionable men will be given a free gift."

"All gifts are free," said someone who sounded like Frank or Ernest.

"You're out of order," Justice Strauss said, "We're discussing social justice, not social engagements. Will the accused parties please stand and state their names and occupations for the record."

The Baudelaire's rose and I followed suit.

"You're included Count Olaf," Justice Strauss said firmly.

Olaf rose too, causing the bench to crackle.

"Name?" she asked.

"Count Olaf," Olaf answered.

"Occupation?"

"Impresario," he said. I wasn't sure what that meant but I was guessing it had to do with acting.

"Are you innocent or guilty?" Justice Strauss asked.

"I'm unspeakably innocent," he said. Whispers spread through the crowd.

I rolled my eyes.

"You may be seated," Justice Strauss said, with a bang of her gravel, "Children, you are next. Please state your names."

"Violet Baudelaire," Violet said.

"Klaus Baudelaire," Klaus said.

"Sunny Baudelaire," Sunny said.

"Jamie Murray," I said. There were gasps and whispers spread through the crowd.

"Occupations?"

"Volunteer," Violet said.

"Concierge," Klaus said.

"Child," Sunny said.

"Student," I answered. I had attended those boarding schools and other than that I didn't actually work.

"I object!" Olaf said beside us. "Their real occupation is orphan, or inheritor of a large fortune. As for Jamie, her occupation should be my legally adopted daughter."

"Your objection is noted," Justice Strausssaid firmly. "Now then, Baudelaires, are you guilty or innocent?"

They hesitated. "We're comparatively innocent," Klaus said.

"Now Miss. Murray," Justice Strauss asked me, "are you innocent or guilty?"

"I am just as innocent as the Baudelaire's are," I answered but I couldn't help feel like I was lying.

"I can see the headlines now!" she cried. "'EVERYBODY IS INNOCENT!' Wait until the readers of _The Daily Punctilio _see that!"

"Nobody is innocent," Justice Strauss said, banging her gavel. "At least, not yet. Now then, all those in the courtroom who have evidence they would like to submit to the court, please approach the judges and do so."

The room exploded into chaos as the crowd of blindfolded people tried to present their evidence to the High Court. The Baudelaires sat on the bench and heard people stumbling over one another as they all tried to submit their research to the High Court.

"I submit these newspaper articles!" announced the voice of Geraldine Julienne.

"I submit these employment records!" announced Sir.

"I submit these environmental studies!" announced Charles.

"I submit these grade books!" announced Mr. Remora.

"I submit these blueprints of banks!" announced Mrs. Bass.

"I submit these administrative records!" announced Vice Principal Nero.

"I submit this paperwork!" announced Hal.

"I submit these financial records!" announced Mr. Poe.

"I submit these rule books!" announced a man whose voice I didn't recognize.

"I submit these constitutions!" announced a woman whose voice I also didn't recognize.

"I submit these carnival posters!" announced Hugo.

"I submit these anatomical drawings!" announced Colette.

"I submit these books," announced Kevin, "with both my left and right hands!"

"I submit these ruby-encrusted blank pages!" announced Esmé Squalor.

"I submit this book about how wonderful I am!" announced Carmelita Spats.

"I submit this commonplace book!" announced either Frank or Ernest.

"So do I!" announced either Ernest or Frank.

"I submit my mother!"

It worried me that while many pieces of evidence might prove our innocence, there was also evidence submitted that could cause our doom. I kept listening for Monty to announce that he had evidence but so far I didn't recognize his voice.

"I submit these photographs!"

"I submit these hospital records!"

"I submit these magazine articles!"

"I submit these telegrams!"

"I submit these couplets!"

"I submit these maps!"

"I submit these cookbooks!"

"I submit these scraps of paper!"

"I submit these screenplays!"

"I submit these rhyming dictionaries!"

"I submit these love letters!"

"I submit these opera synopses!"

"I submit these thesauri!"

"I submit these marriage licenses!"

"I submit these Talmudic commentaries!"

"I submit these wills and testaments!"

"I submit these auction catalogs!"

"I submit these codebooks!"

"I submit these mycological encyclopedias!"

"I submit these menus!"

"I submit these ferry schedules!"

"I submit these theatrical programs!"

"I submit these business cards!"

"I submit these memos!"

"I submit these novels!"

"I submit these cookies!"

"I submit these assorted pieces of evidence I'm unwilling to categorize!"

There was a large _thud!_ and then Jerome's triumphant voice: "I submit this comprehensive history of injustice!" he announced, and the lobby filled with a mixture of applause and of hissing, as the volunteers and villains reactedJustice Strauss had to bang her gavel several times before the crowd settled down. I sighed as I realized Monty had left afterall. No justice could be brought today. Now I only had one option.

"Before the High Court reviews this evidence," the judge said, "we ask each accused person to give a statement explaining their actions. You can take as long as you want to tell your story, but you should leave out nothing important. Count Olaf, you may go first."

The wooden bench crackled again as Olaf rose, and he sighed, I wrinkled my nose at his foul breath. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I'm so incredibly innocent that the word 'innocent' ought to be written on my face in capital letters. The letter I would stand for 'I'm innocent.' The letter N would stand for 'nothing wrong,' which is what I've done. The letter A would stand for-"

"That's not how you spell 'innocent,'" Justice Strauss interrupted.

"I don't think spelling counts," Count Olaf grumbled.

"Spelling counts," the judge said sternly.

"Well, 'innocence' should be spelled O-L-A-F," Count Olaf said, "and that's the end of my speech."

The bench crackled as Olaf sat down. "That's all you have to say?" Justice Strauss asked in surprise.

"Yep," Count Olaf said.

"I told you not to leave out anything important," the judge reminded him.

"I'm the only important thing," Count Olaf insisted, "and I'm very innocent. I'm sure there's more in that enormous pile of evidence that proves me innocent than there is that proves me guilty."

"Well, all right," the judge said uncertainly. "Baudelaires, Miss Murray, you may now tell us your side of the story."

I took that as my cue to stand with the Baudelaires and begin the story that I have waited my entire life to tell. Yet I knew my story would only serve to help Olaf with his latest scheme to kidnap poor Justice Strauss.

"Alright," I said, "Well, when I was very young, barely two years old, I was left by my parents at a boarding school in Canada," I began, "I grew up there though I didn't have a very good time. I used to be known to many people as Jane Rumary. It wasn't until recently that I discovered that I was really Jamie Murray. Most of you might already know my name because my parents were Abigail and Henry Murray Richards. They were murdered a long time ago. Apparently it was a big story in the newspaper. I am their daughter. I'm the girl who went missing because my name was changed. My parents were obviously trying to protect me from something in the beginning. I believe their actions were reasonable after everything that had happened to me."

"Hmm," Justice Strauss said. It didn't sound thoughtful and I cringed, knowing what was happening to her.

"Interesting," the man with a beard but no hair raspy voice filled the silence, "go on."

"Then I was expelled from the boarding school," I said, "And I was taken by Mr. Poe to live with a new guardian. I—"

"Excuse me for a second," the deep, low voice said. "Why were you expelled from your boarding school?"

"Um," I said, nervously. "Well, Carmelita Spats went to my school and one night she lured me to the forest where the toolshed was. Then, she forced me to go in and locked me in. Before I knew it, the forest was on fire and it was making its way toward the shed. I was so afraid but I managed to get out and escape being burned to death. When I woke up, I was in the infirmary of the school. Carmelita had told everyone that I had set the fire and since there was no way to prove that it wasn't me, I was expelled. That's when Mr. Poe, who was going to find me a new guardian, took me. Before I went to my new guardian's home, I made an interesting encounter."

"What did you encounter?" the man with a beard but no hair said over Justice Strauss' 'hmm'.

"I was wandering down the streets of the city when I came upon an enormous mansion," I explained, "I didn't know who's home it was at first but when I got there it was on fire. Flames were everywhere but barely any one on the street was paying any attention. I notified the authorities and they sent the fire department to put out the fire. Unfortunately, by the time the firemen got there, the home had been destroyed. And I discovered after, that the home had been the residence of the Baudelaire's. By that time I was living with Dr. Montgomery Montgomery. But the Baudelaire's can explain their story now to fill in any gaps in my story. They had been taken into Count Olaf's care after their parent's perished."

"Well," Violet said, "for us it began one afternoon when my siblings and I were at Briny Beach. I was dreaming up an invention that could retrieve a rock after you skipped it into the ocean. Klaus was examining creatures in tidepools. And Sunny noticed that Mr. Poe was walking toward us."

"Hmm," Justice Strauss said, but it wasn't a thoughtful kind of "hmm." Violet thought perhaps that the judge was saying "hmm" the way she had said "hmm" to either Frank or Ernest, as a safe answer.

"Go on," said a low, deep voice that belonged to one of the other judges. "Justice Strauss was merely being thoughtful."

"Mr. Poe told us that there had been a terrible fire," Klaus continued. "Our home was destroyed, and our parents were gone."

"Hmm," Justice Strauss said again, but it wasn't a sympathetic kind of "hmm." Klaus thought perhaps that the judge was taking a sip of tea, to fortify herself as the siblings told their story.

"Please continue," said another voice. This one was very hoarse, as if the third judge had been screaming for hours and could hardly talk. "Justice Strauss was merely being sympathetic."

"Bildungsroman," said Sunny. She meant something along the lines of, "Since that moment, our story has been a long, dreadful education in the wicked ways of the world and the mysterious secrets hidden in all of its corners," but before her siblings could translate, Justice Strauss uttered another "hmm," and this one was the strangest of all.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and I knew it was time. Although it was too late for me, I didn't want the Baudelaires to have to go into Olaf's clutches too. I also didn't want them to be poisoned by the Medusoid Mycelium and be the reason for their deaths too. I realized I would have to follow Olaf without any Baudelaires and, of course, as my last noble deed; I would try to stop him from releasing the poison. Justice Strauss' struggles grew more frantic and I knew it was time. But there was one more thing to be done before I could follow through with any other plan.

I leaned closer to Klaus and slid my hand into his. Being careful not to let anyone see, I whispered in his ear, "I'm sorry I can't be the person you thought I was. Goodbye…Klaus." I leaned in and sucked in my breath as I kissed Klaus on the cheek. "I'm sorry," I said again when I pulled away. I could feel tears in my eyes. "Don't follow me."

With that, I removed my blindfold and hurried over to where Olaf had ahold of Justice Strauss. She was all tied up in a ball and her mouth was taped so she couldn't cry for help. I felt tears running down my cheeks as the justice looked up at me in astonishment.

"Hmm," she cried again, pleading with me not to do this.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Quiet," Olaf growled at me. "You're going to give us away. Let's go."

I sighed and began following Olaf toward the elevators. I glanced back to where the Baudelaires stood; their blindfolds had been removed. Klaus looked in my direction and his eyes widened in alarm.

"The Baudelaires have taken off their blindfolds!" cried the villainous woman in her low, deep voice.

"Yes!" agreed the villainous man, in his hoarse voice. "They're guilty of contempt of court!"

"We certainly are," Violet agreed fiercely. "This court is worthless and dishonorable!"

"Two of the judges are notorious villains," Klaus announced over the gasps of the crowd.

"Peek!" Sunny cried.

"Nobody peek!" ordered the man with a beard but no hair. "Anyone who peeks will be turned over to the authorities!"

"Take off your blindfolds!" Violet begged the crowd. "Count Olaf is kidnapping Justice Strauss this very moment!"

"Hmm!" cried Justice Strauss in agreement.

"Justice Strauss is enjoying a piece of saltwater taffy!" the woman with hair but no beard said quickly. "That's why she's talking in hmms!"

"She's not enjoying anything!" Klaus cried. "If there are any volunteers in the crowd, take off your blindfolds and help us!"

"The children are trying to trick you!" said the man with a beard but no hair. "Keep your blindfolds on!"

"Yes!" cried the woman with hair but no beard. "They're trying to get all noble people arrested by the authorities!"

"Real McCoy!" Sunny yelled.

"I think the children might be telling the truth," Jerome Squalor said hesitantly.

"Those brats are liars!" Esmé snapped. "They're worse than my ex-boyfriend!"

"I believe them!" Charles said, scratching at his blindfold. "They've experienced villainy before!"

"I don't!" Sir announced. "They're nothing but trouble!"

"They're telling the truth!" cried Frank, probably.

"They're lying!" cried Ernest, most likely.

"They're good students!" said Mr. Remora.

"They're lousy administrative assistants!" said Vice Principal Nero.

"They're bank robbers!" said Mrs. Bass, whose blindfold was covering a small, narrow mask.

"Bank robbers?" Mr. Poe asked. "Egad! Who said that?"

"They're guilty!" cried the man with a beard but no hair.

"They're innocent!" cried Hal.

"They're freaks!" screamed Hugo.

"They're twisted!" shrieked Colette.

"They're right-handed!" yelled Kevin.

"They're headlines!" screeched Geraldine Julienne.

"They're escaping!" said the woman with hair but no beard.

I glanced back again and saw that the villainous woman was right. The Baudelaires were hurrying after us. We were almost to the elevators. I suppose my plan had been ruined and now the Baudelaires had gotten theirselves into more trouble. I guess I should have known they would try to rescue Justice Strauss. Count Olaf was already pulling out the harpoon and we were making our way through the crowd toward the elevators. There was a good distance between the us and the Baudelaires, I wasn't sure what would be worse, leading them into Olaf's clutches, or leaving them to the authorities to be put in jail.

"We must capture them!" called a voice in the crowd.

"It will take a village to capture the Baudelaires!" shrieked Mrs. Morrow. "We can't see them through our blindfolds!"

"We don't want to be guilty of contempt of court!" yelled Mr. Lesko. "Let's feel our way toward the hotel entrance so they can't escape!"

"The authorities are guarding the entrance!" the man with a beard but no hair reminded the crowd. "The Baudelaires are running toward the elevators! Capture them!"

"But don't capture anyone else who happens to be standing near the elevators!" added the woman with hair but no beard, looking hurriedly at Olaf, particularly. The elevator began to open and I followed Olaf on. But in that moment, I knew I couldn't leave my friends behind. No matter what we've been through. I couldn't abandon them. So I stuck out my foot and held the elevator open.

"Take your foot away this instant," Olaf growled, still trying to keep his voice down.

"No!" I cried. "Let them in or I'll tell everyone where you are."

Olaf scowled at me.

_"Wrong!"_

The enormous clock of the Hotel Denouement announced one o'clock in the afternoon and thundered through the room of the enormous lobby, as the Baudelaires reached the elevators.

"Come on," I said.

The Baudelaires climbed on and gave me appreciative smiles. I smiled back but it faded quickly.

Count Olaf glared at the four of us and we glared back as the doors closed.

"Going down?" he asked as he pushed the button for the bottom floor.

"We're going wherever you go," Klaus said, looking at me and he winked as a sweet smile spread across his face. "You know I could never leave you, Jane."

And it was that wink—that smile, that made me realize that I had made another horrible mistake. It was the same smile from when I had seen Klaus alive on Mount Fraught. And that same was what made me regret everything all over again and my only wish was to spend the rest of my life making up for what I did. Whatever it took, I would do it.

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**Review! :)**


	13. The Fire

**New Chapter and the last for TPP! Enjoy!**

**Also I'd like to add that my thoughts and prayers go out to the families and friends of the victims of the recent Newtown Elementary school shooting that took place this morning. :(**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: The Fire**

"Well I have a few errands to run," Olaf said, "First I'm going down to retrieve the sugarbowl. Ha! Next I'm going up to the rooftop to retrieve the Medusoid Mecylium. Ha! Then I'm going back down to the lobby and unleashing the fungus on everyone. Ha! After that I'm going up to the rooftop again to escape the authorities without being seen. Ha!"

"You'll fail," Sunny said. Olaf glared down at her.

"Your mother told me the same thing," he said, "Ha! But one day when I was seven years old, I-"

The doors to the elevator slid open at the basement and Olaf interrupted himself to quickly drag Justice Strauss from the elevator.

"Follow me!" Olaf called to us. We followed reluctantly.

"You can't retrieve the sugar bowl," Violet said, "You'll never find the code to open the Vernacularly Fastened Door."

"Can't I?" Olaf said. He stopped at Room 025. "This hotel is like an enormous library but you can find any item in a library if you have one thing."

"Catalog?" Sunny asked.

"No," Olaf answered and pointed the gun at Justice Strauss. "A hostage." He slowly ripped the tape off Justice Strauss's mouth. "You're going to help me open this lock," he told her. He gave her a nasty smile.

"I will do nothing of the sort!" Justice Strauss replied. "The Baudelaire's and their friend will drag you back to the lobby so justice can be served."

"Justice isn't being served in the lobby," Olaf growled, "or anywhere else in the world!"

"Don't be so sure of that!" Justice Strauss said, and reached behind her back. I hoped whatever it was meant something good but my heart sank when I saw she had pulled out Jerome's comprehensive history of injustice.

_"Odious Lusting After Finance," _she read out loud. "There's enough evidence in here to put you in jail for the rest of your life!"

"Justice Strauss," I said, "those other judges on the High Court are associates of Count Olaf. Those villains will never put Olaf in jail."

"It can't be!" Justice Strauss gasped. "I've known them for years! I've told them everything that was happening to you children, and they were always very interested!"

"Of course they were interested, you fool," Count Olaf said. "They passed along all that information to me, so I could catch up with the orphans! You've been helping me all along, without even knowing it! Ha!"

Justice Strauss rested her head against an ornamental vase, her eyes filling with tears. "I've failed you again, children," she said. "No matter how I've tried to help you, I've only put you in more danger. I thought justice would be served if you told the High Court your story, but—"

"No one's interested in their story," Count Olaf said scornfully. "Even if you wrote down every last detail, no one would read such a dreadful thing. I've triumphed over the orphans and over any other person foolish or noble enough to stand in my way. It's the unraveling of my story, or, as the French say, the _noblesse oblige."_

_"Denouement," _I corrected but Olaf ignored me, and turned his attention to the Vernacularly Fastened Door.

"That idiot sub-sub said the first phrase is a description of a medical condition that all three Baudelaire children share," he muttered, and then turned to Justice Strauss. "Tell me what it is, or prepare to eat harpoon."

"Never," Justice Strauss said. "I may have failed these children, but I won't fail V.F.D. You'll never get the sugar bowl, no matter what terrible threats you make."

"Fine," Olaf said, "I suppose Jamie can answer the first phrase. What medical condition do they share?"

I glanced at the Baudelaires and then back at Olaf. "It's not my place to tell you," I said, "if you want to know, you'll have to ask the Baudelaires."

Olaf glowered at me. "Why you little—"

"I'll tell you what the first phrase is," Klaus interrupted calmly, and I looked at him in astonishment. The Baudelaires and Justice Strauss shared the same expression. Even Count Olaf seemed a little puzzled.

"You will?" he asked.

"Certainly," Klaus said. "It's just like you said, Count Olaf. Every noble person has failed us. Why should we protect the sugar bowl?"

"Klaus!" Violet, Sunny, and I cried, in simultaneous astonishment.

"No!" Justice Strauss cried, in solitary amazement.

But if Klaus helped Olaf open the lock then…of course! Klaus knew the sugarbowl wasn't in there. That's why he was helping Olaf.

"I'll help you with the rest," I said, "I just wanted to give Klaus a chance to answer one first." I winked at Klaus and we shared secret smiles.

Count Olaf still looked a little puzzled, but then shrugged his dusty shoulders. "O.K.," he said, "tell me what medical condition you and your orphan siblings share."

"We're allergic to peppermints," Klaus said, and quickly typed A-L-L-E-R-G-I-C-T- O-P-E-P-P-E-R-M-I-N-T-S into the lock. Immediately, there was a muted clicking sound from the typewriter keyboard.

"It's warming up," Count Olaf said, in a delighted wheeze. "Get out of the way, four-eyes! The second phrase is the weapon that left me an orphan, and I can type that one in myself. P-O-Y-Z-"

"Wait!" Klaus said, before Olaf could touch the keyboard. "That can't be right. Those letters don't spell anything."

"Spelling doesn't count," said Count Olaf.

"Yes, it does," Klaus said. "Tell me what the weapon is that left you an orphan, and I'll type it in for you."

Count Olaf gave Klaus a slow smile that made all four of us shudder. "Certainly I'll tell you," he said. "It was poison darts."

I looked at Klaus who looked from me to his sisters. Then in dismal silence typed P-O-I-S-O-N-D-A-R-T-S into the lock, which began to buzz quietly. Count Olaf's eyes shone brightly as the lock began to shake.

"It's working," he said, and ran his tongue over his filthy teeth. "The sugar bowl is so close I can taste it!"

Klaus took his commonplace book from his pocket, and read his notes intently for a moment. Then he turned to Justice Strauss. "Give me that book, please," he said, pointing to Jerome Squalor's book. "The third phrase is the famous unfathomable question in the best-known novel by Richard Wright. Richard Wright was an American novelist of the realist school whose writings illuminated the disparities in race relations. It is likely his work is quoted in a comprehensive history of injustice."

"You can't read that entire book!" Count Olaf said. "The crowd will find us before you finish the first chapter!"

"I'll look in the index," Klaus said, "just like I did at Aunt Josephine's, when we decoded her note and found her hiding place."

"I always wondered how you did that," Olaf said, sounding almost as if he respected Klaus's researching skills.

Klaus turned to the index.

"Wright, Richard," Klaus read aloud. "Unfathomable question in _Native Son, _page 581."

"That's the five hundred and eighty-first page," Count Olaf explained.

"Way to state the obvious," I said as Klaus turned to the proper page and scanned it quickly. I watched in admiration, I realized how much I missed seeing Klaus research. "I found it," he said quietly. "It's quite an interesting question, actually."

"Really?" I said, "What's it about?"

"No one cares about interesting questions!" Olaf said. "Type it in this instant!"

Klaus smiled, and began typing the phrase quickly into the typewriter keyboard.

"Now," Olaf said, "the fourth phrase is easy."

"Esmé is the oldest Murray sister," I said, "I know that."

Olaf's mouth curved into a grin. "That's where you're wrong," Olaf said. "It's strange that after all the time you spent with Esmé, she never mentioned her eldest sibling, Faith Murray."

"Faith?" I asked. "I'm named after her? Where is she?"

"She's dead," Olaf said, simply.

I frowned. "Oh," I said, a little sad knowing that the majority of the family I discovered were already dead. Klaus was looking at me in concern. "How did she die?"

"I don't have time to answer anymore of your questions," Olaf growled. "By the way, I'm very disappointed in you for lying about how the recruits got away. I know you set them free."

"You set the recruits free?" Violet said in amazement. Klaus and Sunny shared her look.

I nodded, knowing he was bound to find out the truth sometime. "Melissa helped me," I said, "See, Olaf, I can be useful too."

"Yes, I suppose you can," Olaf said, "after all, you did help me with my scheme." I frowned and Olaf looked satisfied. "Now, type in the name Faith Angela Murray, bookworm." he said curtly.

Klaus glanced at me again before he typed it in. The wires shook even more and finally, the lock fell off the door.

Violet and Sunny stepped toward him then and each of them put a hand on their brother's shoulder.

"Why do this?" Sunny asked.

"Sunny's right," Violet said. "Why are you helping Olaf get into the laundry room?"

Klaus typed in "M-U-R-R-A-Y" and then looked at his sisters. "Because the sugar bowl isn't there," he said, and pushed open the door.

"What do you mean?" Count Olaf demanded. "Of course the sugar bowl is in there!"

"I'm afraid Olaf is right," Justice Strauss said. "You heard what Dewey said. When the crows were shot with the harpoon gun, they fell onto the birdpaper and dropped the sugar bowl into the funnel."

"So it would appear," Klaus said slyly.

"Enough nonsense!" Count Olaf shouted, waving his harpoon gun in the air and storming into the laundry room, which of course did not contain the sugarbowl. The laundry room was small and contained a few washing and drying machines. There were piles of dirty sheets and a few plactic jugs of extremely flammable chemicals. A metal tube hung over one corner of the ceiling, allowing steam from the machines to float up the tube and outside. With a hoarse, angry roar, Count Olaf opened the doors of the washing and drying machines and slammed them closed, and then picked up the piles of dirty sheets and sent them tumbling onto the floor.

"Where is it?" he snarled, spit flying from his furious mouth. "Where's the sugar bowl?"

"It's a secret," Klaus said. "A secret that died with Dewey Denouement."

I nodded in agreement. "That's right," I said. "Dewey said it himself, the lock was only a decoy."

Count Olaf turned to face us, and despite being in his clutches for several, long gruesome months, I've never seen him look so frightening. His eyes had never gleamed as brightly, and his smile had never been so hungry for evil deeds. It was as if the villain's own wickedness was causing him great pain. "He won't be the only volunteer who dies today," he said, in a terrible whisper. "I'll destroy every soul in his hotel, sugar bowl or no sugar bowl. I'll unleash the Medusoid Mycelium, and volunteers and villains alike will perish in agony. My comrades have failed me as often as my enemies, and I'm eager to be rid of them. Then I'll push that boat off the roof, and sail away with—"

"You can't push that boat off the roof," Violet said. "It would never survive the fall, due to the force of gravity."

"I suppose I'll have to add the force of gravity to my list of enemies," Olaf muttered.

"I'll get that boat off the roof," Violet said calmly, and the cycle of astonished looks was repeated again. This time I was more curious as to why she would find it necessary to help him escape. I guess either way, we would have to leave with Olaf and Violet was probably more concerned about her siblings' safety then Count Olaf's.

"You will?" he asked.

"Certainly," Violet said. "It's just like you said, Count Olaf. Every noble person has failed us. Why shouldn't we help you escape?"

"Violet!" Klaus and Sunny cried at the same time.

"No!" Justice Strauss cried.

Count Olaf still looked puzzled, but gave Violet a shrug. "O.K.," he said. "What do you need?"

"A few of those dirty sheets," Violet said. "I'll tie them together and make a drag chute, just like I did in the Mortmain Mountains when I stopped the caravan from falling off the mountain."

"I always wondered how you did that," Olaf said, looking at her as if he respected her inventing skills. Violet walked into the laundry room and gathered some sheets into her arms, trying to choose cleanest of the bunch.

"Let's go to the roof," she said quietly. Klaus and Sunny stepped forward. I stepped closer to listen.

"Why do this?" Sunny asked.

"Sunny's right," Klaus said. "Why are you helping Olaf escape?"

Violet looked at the sheets in her hand, and then at her siblings. "Because he'll take us with him," she said.

"Why would I do that?" Olaf asked.

"Because you need more than a one or I guess two-person crew," Violet said slyly, "and we need to leave this hotel without being spotted by the authorities."

"I suppose that's true," Olaf said. "Well, you would have ended up in my clutches in any case. Come along."

"Not yet," Sunny said. "One more thing."

We all looked at Sunny in confusion. Her expression was unfathomable and I wasn't sure what she was thinking.

"One more thing?" Count Olaf repeated, staring down at Sunny. "What could that be?"

As Sunny answered Count Olaf's question, the clock of the Hotel Denouement struck two _Wrong!s, _ and I wondered if Sunny's suggestion would be something even more astonishing and treacherous.

"Burn down hotel," Sunny said, and I felt as if I were falling down the dark elevator shaft again.

"Ha! This takes the cake!" With a look of treacherous glee he reached down and patted Sunny Baudelaire on the head, with the hand that wasn't clutching the harpoon gun. "After all this time, the littlest orphan wants to follow in my footsteps!" he cried. "I knew I was a good guardian after all!"

"You're not a good guardian," Violet said, "and Sunny's not an arsonist. My sister doesn't know what she's saying."

"Burn down hotel," Sunny insisted.

"No, Sunny," I said, "You can't do that. I set a bad example earlier. You shouldn't do cruel things even if you think there's no way around it. You'll only feel worse."

"Are you feeling all right, Sunny?" Klaus asked, looking into Sunny's eyes.

"I feel fine," Sunny said. "Burn down hotel."

"That's my girl!" Count Olaf cried. "I only wish Carmelita had your spunk and that Jamie could have been brave enough to shoot Dewey when I commanded her to! With all the errands I had to do, burning down this hotel hadn't even occurred to me. But even when you're very busy, you should always take time for your hobbies."

"Your hobbies," Justice Strauss said, "are nothing but villainy, Count Olaf. The Baudelaires and Jamie may want to join you in wickedness, but I'll do anything in my power to stop you."

"There's nothing in your power," Olaf sneered. "Your fellow judges are comrades of mine, your fellow volunteers are running around the lobby of this hotel wearing blindfolds, and I have the harpoon gun."

"I have a comprehensive history of injustice!" Justice Strauss cried. "This book should be good for something!"

Count Olaf did not respond, but aimed the weapon at the judge. "You orphans will start the fire here in the laundry room," he said, "while I make sure Justice Strauss doesn't stop us."

"Yes, sir," Sunny said, and took Violet and Klaus' hands. I followed after them.

"No!" Justice Strauss cried.

"Why are you doing this, Sunny?" Violet asked her sister. "You're going to hurt innocent people!"

"Why are you helping Count Olaf burn down this building?" Klaus cried.

Sunny looked at the laundry room, and then up at us. She shook her head. "Help me," she said.

"No," I said. "Please don't do this. I'm sorry I joined Olaf and nearly killed Dewey."

"Please just help," Sunny pleaded.

"Ha!" Count Olaf cried as he followed us inside. "Pay attention, orphans, and I'll teach you some of my best tricks. First, spread those dirty sheets all over the floor. Then, take those jugs of extremely flammable chemicals and pour them all over the sheets."

"Wait," I said, stopping the Baudelaires in their tracks. "We can burn down the hotel…but you have to let me do it. I want to set the fire. Only me."

The Baudelaires looked at me, puzzled. Olaf looked surprised too.

"So eager?" he said. "I didn't think you had it in you. But I suppose you really are like your mother."

"Jane," Klaus said. "You don't have to do this alone. We said we would help."

"Please," I said, "let _me_ do it."

Before they could utter another word I began spreading the sheets out over the laundry room's wooden floor. I wanted to be the one to set the fire so I could take the fall rather than the Baudelaires. So I walked over to the jugs, opened them, and spilled their contents all over the sheets. A strong, bitter smell wafted from the laundry room.

"What next?" I asked, turning to face Olaf.

"Next is a match and some kindling," Olaf replied, and reached into his pocket with the hand that wasn't holding the gun. "I always carry matches on my person," he said, "just as my enemies always carry kindling." He leaned forward and snatched _Odious Lusting After Finance _out of Justice Strauss's hands. "This book _is _good for something," he said. He thrust the book in my hands. "Toss it on, Blondie."

"Do we have to use a book?" I asked. "There must be another way."

Olaf scowled. "Not _this_ again," he growled. "We don't have time to find anything else to use for kindle. Now toss it in or I'll do it for you."

I sighed and did as he said and the book caught fire immediately. Olaf handed me the match and I lit it, throwing it onto the book. Jerome Squalor's book had opened when it landed so I could see what appeared to be a carefully drawn diagram, with arrows and dotted lines and a paragraph of notation underneath. The only word I caught was "passageway" before the pages began to burn.

"Oh," Sunny said quietly, and leaned against her siblings. We all stared into the laundry room in silence.

It was very sad to watch the book burn, all of the ideas disappearing, never to be known.

As I gazed at the burning book, I felt again as if I was letting down Klaus. I tried to mouth to him 'I'm sorry' but I don't think he noticed. I was also reminded of the fire the woman with hair but no beard tried to kill me with. That was the first fire I had seen. Would this fire be the last?

"We'd best get away from here," Count Olaf said, breaking the silence. "In my experience, once the flames reach the chemicals, the fire will spread very quickly. I'm afraid the cocktail party will be canceled, but if we hurry, there's still time to infect the guests of his hotel with the Medusoid Mycelium before we escape. Ha! To the elevators!"

Twirling the harpoon gun in his hands, the villain strode down the hallway, dragging the judge as he went, and I hurried to follow with the Baudelaires. When we reached the elevator, I noticed the sign that said not to use an elevator in case of a fire.

"Stairs," Sunny said, pointing at the sign.

"Ignore that," Olaf said scornfully, punching the button to summon an elevator.

"Dangerous," Sunny pointed out. "Take the stairs."

"You may have had the idea to burn down the hotel," Count Olaf said, "but I'm still the boss, baby! We won't get to the fungus in time if we take the stairs! We're taking the elevator!"

"Drat," Sunny said quietly, and frowned. I looked down at Sunny curiously, wondering why she was so concerned about using the stairs. Then Sunny gazed up at her siblings with a sly smile.

"Preludio," she said. Violet and Klaus shared her grin. I looked at them in confusion.

_"What?'" _Olaf asked sharply, and punched the button over and over again.

"What my sister means," Violet said, "is that she appreciates the lesson on setting fires," but I knew Violet was lying.

When the sliding doors opened and Count Olaf stomped inside the elevator, we followed but the Baudelaires immediately pressed every single button.

"What are you doing?" Olaf shrieked. "I'll never reach the Medusoid Mycelium in time to poison everyone!"

"We'll be able to warn as many people as possible that the building is on fire!" cried Justice Strauss.

"Dual purpose," Sunny said, and shared a small smile with her siblings as the elevator reached the lobby and opened its doors. The enormous, domed room was nearly empty, I could see that everyone had followed the advice of the two wicked judges of the High Court, and were wandering blindfolded around the hotel.

"Fire!" cried Violet, immediately knowing the doors would slide shut in an instant. "Attention everyone! There's a fire in the hotel! Please leave at once!"

The man with a beard but no hair was standing nearby, with his hand on Jerome Squalor's shoulder so he could push the injustice expert around. "Fire?" he said, in his strange, hoarse voice. "Good work, Olaf!"

"What do you mean, good work?" demanded Jerome, a frown appearing below his blindfold.

"I meant to say, 'there's Olaf!'" the man said hurriedly, pushing Jerome in the direction of the elevator. "Capture him! He needs to be brought to the authorities!"

"Olaf is here?" asked probably Frank, who was feeling his way along the wall along with his brother. "I'm going to capture him!"

"Where are the Baudelaires?" demanded probably Ernest. "I'm going to capture them!"

"In the elevator!" shouted the woman with hair but no beard from across the lobby, but the sliding doors were already closing.

"Call the fire department!" Violet cried desperately.

"Which one?" was the reply, but I wasn't sure if it came from Frank or Ernest, and the doors slid shut on this one last glimpse of the villains and volunteers before the elevator began its rise to the second story.

"Those judges promised that if I waited until tomorrow I'd see all my enemies destroyed," Count Olaf grumbled, "and now they're trying to capture me. I knew they'd fail me some day."

I didn't have time to point out that Olaf had also failed the judges, by planning to poison them, along with everyone else in the lobby, because the elevator immediately stopped on the second story and opened its doors.

"There's a fire in the hotel!" Klaus called into the hallway. "Everyone leave at once!"

"A fire?" said Esmé Squalor. She was still wearing her blindfold. "Who said that?"

"It's Klaus Baudelaire," Klaus said. "You need to get out of the hotel!"

"Don't listen to that cakesniffer!" cried Carmelita Spats, who was running a hand over an ornamental vase. "He's just trying to escape from us! Let's take off our blindfolds and peek!"

"Don't take off your blindfolds!" cried Count Olaf. "Those Baudelaires are guilty of contempt of court, and they're trying to trick you into joining them! There's no fire! Whatever you do, don't leave the hotel!"

"We're not tricking you!" Klaus said. "Olaf is tricking you! Please believe us!"

"I don't know who to believe," Esme said scornfully "You orphans are as dishonest as my ex-boyfriend."

"Leave us alone!" Carmelita ordered, bumping into a wall. "We can find our own way!"

It was that moment that I realized that even though this woman had put me through so much misery, I couldn't lose her. I've already lost so much and if I lost Esmé too…I'd have no one. As angry as I was at her for abandoning me, I had to save her life.

"Please listen to us!" I cried. "There really is a fire! It's Jamie."

"Why should we listen to you cakesniffer?" Carmelita said. "You're just trying to get us into trouble."

"Esmé," I cried, "please!"

"Carmelita's right," Esmé said. "How can I trust that you're telling the truth?"

"Because we're family," I said, "and if there's one thing I've learned from these hard times, it's that you don't give up on family. Just because you turned away from me, doesn't mean I'm going to abandon you, Esmé."

"That's enough, Blondie," Olaf growled, and pressed the button to close the doors.

"No!" I cried, flinging my arms out to stop it. "Esmé, if you're not going to do it for me, at least do it for my mother. If she was the person you said she was, then she wouldn't want you to die. Please, you have to trust me!"

"Stop holding us up," Olaf growled and grabbed my arm, trying to pull me away. "Get in the elevator this instant!"

"Let go!" I cried. "We can't leave her behind!"

Olaf yanked me roughly and I fell back inside the elevator. I looked up in time to see that Esmé had removed her blindfold and was gazing at me with her wide, green eyes.

"Open the doors!" I practically screamed, lunging for the buttons. "Esmé!"

"Jamie!" I heard her call back as the doors slid closed.

"No," I gasped in despair. "No, no, no, no! How could you do that to her? She was trying to get on!"

Olaf threw me to the floor. "I don't care about that woman," Olaf growled. "She was a terrible associate. Besides, she abandoned you, why should you give her the time of day?"

"It doesn't matter what she did," I said as I wept into my hands. "She's still my aunt and I still care about her."

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked up to see Klaus crouched beside me. He held out his hand to help me to my feet. I took it, letting him pull me to my feet.

"I'm sorry, Jane," Violet said, genuinely.

"There may still be a chance for Esmé to get out," Klaus said.

"But what if she doesn't?" I asked.

The Baudelaires exchanged glances but none of them could answer my question.

"Don't worry," Sunny said softly. "Everything will be okay."

I know Sunny was only trying to comfort me. But we all knew that nothing would ever be okay so long as the Baudelaires were still wanted criminals and we were stuck in Olaf's clutches.

The doors slid open on the third story.

"Fire!" Sunny cried. "Use stairs. Do not use elevator!"

"Sunny Baudelaire?" Mr. Poe called. He was facing the wrong direction, and he held a white handkerchief up to his black blindfold. "Don't add the false reporting of fire to your list of crimes! You're already guilty of contempt of court, and perhaps murder!"

"It's not false!" Justice Strauss exclaimed. "There really is a fire, Mr. Poe! Leave this hotel!"

"I can't leave," Mr. Poe replied, coughing into his handkerchief. "I'm still in charge of the Baudelaires' and Miss Rumary's affairs, and their parents' fort-"

The elevator doors closed, interrupting Mr. Poe.

The rest of the stops weren't too different. We saw Mrs. Bass, still wearing her small blond wig and her blindfold, stretched over her small, narrow mask. We saw Mr. Remora and Vice Principal Nero on the seventh story. We saw Geraldine Julienne, who was using her microphone as a makeshift cane. Charles and Sir were on one of the floors and were holding hands so as not to lose one another, while Hugo and Colette and Kevin were holding the birdpaper on another floor. We saw Mr. Lesko arguing with Mrs. Morrow, both from the Village of Fowl Devotees. A man with a guitar was befriending a woman in a crow-shaped hat, and there were many people we did not recognize, who were wandering the hallways of the hotel to capture anyone they might find suspicious. Some people believed us when we warned them about the fire and some of them believed Count Olaf when he said that we were lying, and some of them believed Justice Strauss when she told them that Count Olaf was lying.

The elevator finally reached the rooftop as I continued to worry about the people who might perish because of the fire that_ I_ set.

"Look!" cried Count Olaf, leaning over the edge of the hotel and pointing down. I followed his gaze but the air was stained with patches of thick, black smoke that poured out of the basement windows as the fire began to spread, covering nearly the entire mirror-like pond. I could see tiny figures running around, but I wasn't sure if they were the authorities on the ground, or people in the hotel running to escape from the blaze.

Olaf continued to gaze downward, and I couldn't tell if he was pleased or disappointed. "Thanks to you orphans," he said, "it's too late to destroy everyone with the Medusoid Mycelium, but at least we got to start a fire."

Justice Strauss' expression was unfathomable. "Thanks to you orphans," she said quietly, "this hotel will be destroyed by fire, but at least we stopped Olaf from releasing the fungus."

"The fire isn't burning very quickly," Olaf said. "Many people will escape."

"The fire isn't burning slowly, either," Justice Strauss said. "Some people won't."

I lowered my head, fearing the worst had happened to Esmé, to Jerome, and to all the people who had cared for us.

All of the sudden, the entire building trembled, and I struggled to keep my balance on the tilted roof. The shiny sunbathing mats tumbled across the salon, and the water in the swimming pool splashed against the side of the large, wooden boat, dampening the figurehead of the octopus attacking a man in a diving suit.

"The fire is weakening the structural foundations of the building," Violet said.

"We have to get out of here," Klaus said.

"Pronto," Sunny said.

The Baudelaires turned and strode quickly toward the boat. I followed swiftly behind.

Shifting the pile of sheets into one hand, Violet took off her concierge hat, reached into her pocket, and tied her hair up. Klaus reached into his pocket, pulled out two commonplace books. One of them was mine of course.

"Here," Klaus said, handing me my notebook. I took it and nodded.

"Thanks," I said.

Klaus looked down at his notebook and began to flip through it. Sunny scraped her sharp teeth together thoughtfully, in case they were needed. I looked anxiously around, prepared to help with anything.

Violet stared critically at the boat. "I'll attach the drag chute to the figurehead," she said. "I should be able to tie a Devil's Tongue knot around the helmet of the diver."

"That's where the Medusoid Mycelium is hidden," I said. "Count Olaf kept it there, where no one would think of looking."

Klaus stared critically at his notes. "I'll angle the sail to catch the wind," he said. "Otherwise, a heavy object like this would fall straight down into the water." He paused for a moment, too.

"That's where the sugarbowl went," I said with a nod, "because inside the pond is the real last safe place."

The Baudelaires looked at me with wide eyes. "I knew the sugarbowl landed in there and that the catalog is down there," Klaus said, "but I thought the hotel was the last safe place."

I shook my head. "The hotel wasn't built this way just for an interesting look. Of course, it was built this way to distract people from the real last safe place. Notice how the hotel is reflected onto its surface."

"And that's where the catalog is," Violet said.

"Spatulas as oars," Sunny said, pointing to the implements that Hugo had used to flip over the sunbathers.

"Good idea," Violet agreed and gazed out to the gray, troubled waters of the sea. "Maybe our friends will find us. Hector should be flying this way, with Kit Snicket and the Quagmires. Melissa was in the hotel though, I hope she got out all right."

Now I had another person to add to my list of people I worried would perish. I was suddenly glad Monty had left. He didn't have to witness the consequences of my actions.

"And Fiona," Klaus added. Then he looked at me apologetically. "I'm sorry."

I nodded curtly. Before when I had first seen him, I was happy and my heart ached less, but when he mentioned Fiona, my heart plummeted. I realized I had gotten carried away. I wasn't going back to being a villain if I had a say about it—despite setting this fire—but I certainly wasn't sure if I could go right back to being good friends with the Baudelaires. So much damage had been done, and it would be a while before things could go back to the way they were. Who knows, perhaps things will never be the same?

"You don't have to apologize," I said, "you did nothing wrong."

Klaus frowned.

"No they're not coming," Sunny said, before Klaus could respond.

"What do you mean?" Violet asked, stepping carefully from the edge of the pool onto the side of the boat, where she began to climb a rope ladder up to the figurehead.

"They said they would arrive by Thursday," Klaus said, helping Sunny climb aboard and then stepping onto the boat himself. I climbed in afterwards. The deck was big enough to hold us and a few more passengers. "It's Wednesday afternoon."

"The fire," Sunny said, and pointed at the smoke as it rose toward the sky.

Violet and Klaus gasped. I frowned in confusion.

"That's why you thought of lighting the fire," Violet said, hurriedly tying the sheets around the figurehead. "It's a signal."

"V.F.D. will see it," Klaus said, "and know that all their hopes have gone up in smoke."

"The last safe place," Sunny said with a nod, "is safe no more."

"But why did you volunteer to set it, Jane?" Violet asked me.

I sighed. "Because you three are already in enough trouble," I said, "but if we ever have to repeat this story to anyone, I'd rather they think I was the one who set it. That way I could take the blame and you wouldn't have to go to jail."

The Baudelaires exchanged glances. "You shouldn't have done that," Klaus said.

"You don't have to take responsibility for our actions," Violet said.

"I know," I said, "but someone has to protect you, since the adults we've encountered won't. If things had carried on without Mr. Poe's interruption, Count Olaf could have fired the harpoon and killed one of you. None of the adults seemed to worry about that."

"Well, we appreciate your nobility," Violet said.

"I'm not noble," I said, "I just care about you…I always have. Besides, it wouldn't be so bad if I were put in jail. You have each other…and probably in a matter of moments, I'll have lost everyone important to me."

"You haven't lost us," Klaus said firmly.

I glanced at him and tried to pretend his words didn't have an affect on me.

"Maybe our friends will find us anyway," Violet said after a moment. "They might be the last noble people we know."

"If they're truly noble," Klaus said, "they might not want to be our friends."

Violet nodded, and her eyes filled with tears. "You're right," she admitted. "We killed a man."

"I'm to blame for that," I said, "but it was an accident."

"And we burned down a hotel," Klaus said.

"Signal," Sunny said.

"We had good reasons," Violet said, "but we still did bad things."

"We want to be noble," Klaus said, "but we've had to be treacherous."

"Noble enough," Sunny said.

"I understand why you were upset," Klaus said, in an attempt to further make amends, "I apologize for not believing you. I really am sorry, Jane. I never should have assumed the worst."

I shrugged. "What can we do?" I said. "We can't change the past."

At that moment, the building trembled again. I clung to the side of the boat, nearly falling over. Violet was hanging on to the figurehead and Klaus and Sunny were holding on to each other as the boat bumped against the sides of the swimming pool.

"Help us!" Violet cried to the adults, who were still staring at the rising smoke. "Grab those spatulas, and push the boat to the edge of the roof!"

"Don't boss me around!" Olaf growled but he went with Justice Strauss over to the spatulas in the corner of the roof. The spatulas reflected the afternoon sun and sky, as it grew thick with smoke. Count Olaf and Justice Strauss each grabbed a spatula and poked at the boat.

The sailboat bumped against the edge of the pool, and then was pushed out of the pool, where it slowly slid, with a loud scraping sound, to the far edge of the roof. I continued to cling to the front part of the boat as it slid across the mirrors of the salon and then hung over nothing but the smoky air. It began to tip from one side to the other in a flimsy balance between the roof of the hotel and the sea below.

"Climb aboard!" Violet cried, giving her knots one last pull.

"Of course I'll climb aboard!" Olaf announced, narrowing his eyes at the helmet of the figurehead. "I'm the captain of this boat!" He heaved his spatula onto the deck, narrowly missing Klaus and Sunny, and then bounded onto the ship, making it rock wildly on the edge of the building.

"You too, Justice Strauss!' Klaus called, but the judge just put down her spatula and looked sadly at us.

"No," she said, and I could see the tears running down her cheeks. "I won't go. It's not right." "What else can we do?" Sunny said, but Justice Strauss just shook her head.

"I won't run from the scene of a crime," she said. "You children should come with me, and we'll explain everything to the authorities."

"They might not believe us," Violet said, readying the drag chute, "or there might be enemies lurking in their ranks, like the villains in the High Court."

"Perhaps," the judge said, "but that's no excuse for running away."

"I admire your courage, Justice Strauss," I said, "I know we only just met, yet you seem like a noble person. I wish we could go with you, but we just can't afford to think that way." As I said it, I wished so bad that she was right and that we could go with her. I wanted to believe that everything could be okay but I knew if we went to the authorities, they wouldn't listen to us. No one would listen to us.

Count Olaf gave Justice Strauss a scornful look, and then turned to us. "Let her burn to a crisp if she wants," he said, "but it's time for us to go."

Justice Strauss took a deep breath, and then stepped forward and put her hand on the wooden carving. "There are people who say that criminal behavior is the destiny of children from a broken home," she said, through her tears. "Don't make this your destiny."

"We didn't choose this destiny," I said. "Perhaps those people are right."

Klaus stood at the mast next to me and adjusted the controls of the sail. "This boat," he said, "is the only home we have."

His words brought tears to my eyes as I thought about how true they were. Everywhere else we went to threatened to be dangerous and for the moment, all we had was this boat. I thought about Hogwarts and how I had to reject their invitation. That school could have been my destiny—it could have been my home but now there was nothing except this pathetic sailboat.

"As for me, I've never had a home," I said, "that was taken from me along time ago."

"I've been following you, Baudelaires, all this time," Justice Strauss said, her grip tightening on the figurehead. "You've always been just out of my grasp, from the moment Mr. Poe took you away from the theater in his car to the moment Kit Snicket took you through the hedges in her taxi. I won't let you go, Baudelaires! And Jamie, I've read about the troubles you've endured, you shouldn't be doing this."

Sunny stepped toward Justice Strauss, and for one moment I thought she was going to step off the boat. But then she looked into Justice Strauss' weeping eyes, and gave her a very sad smile.

"Good-bye," she said, and she opened her mouth and bit her hand. With a cry of pain and frustration, Justice Strauss let go of the figurehead, and the building trembled again, sending the judge tumbling to the ground. "I'm sorry," I said as the boat tumbled off the roof, and the clock of the Hotel Denouement announced the hour for the final time. _Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! _

The clock signaled three o'clock and I screamed along with the Baudelaires as we hurtled downward. Even Count Olaf cried "Mommy!"

I looked around in panic and noticed the boat was headed for the ground rather than the sea. I concentrated my powers on the boat and successfully moved it so the boat was headed for the sea and Violet let go of the dirty sheets, the drag chute billowing into the air. Klaus moved the sail to catch the wind, and the boat stopped falling and started to glide, as if it were a bird.

Despite my panic and fear, I couldn't help but marvel at the way the boat glided through the air like a magic carpet. Finally, with an enormous _splash! _the boat landed in the ocean, a good distance from the burning hotel. When it hit the water, I feared that the boat was going to sink into the water. But the sail caught the wind, and the figurehead righted itself. Olaf picked up his spatula and handed it to Sunny.

"Start rowing," he ordered, and then began to laugh wickedly, his eyes shining bright in triumph. "You're in my clutches at last, orphans—well Blondie already was in my clutches—but now all four of you are in my clutches!" he said. "We're all in the same boat."

I looked at Count Olaf and then down at the water in horror. His words brought back that moment several months before when he had stood over me and declared that he would take everything away from me. As I looked around at the boat we were trapped on, I nearly burst into sobs because I saw that he had been right. I already lost Jacques Snicket, Monty Kensicle, Esmé, Melissa, and the Quagmires. Next, would be the Baudelaires and then the rest of my life would forever be spent filled with loneliness and misery, everything I've been running from since I lost my parents.

As if he could read my mind, Olaf looked down at me with his shiny eyes. "I promised you that you'd be left with nothing," my tormentor said, his eyes narrowing. "And that's just what you'll get."

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**Review!**


	14. Shipwrecked

**New chapter and now we're onto the End!  
**

**As you probably already know this isn't technically the end of my fic so i'm going to give it a different name. But I'm super excited that i've gotten so far with this story!**

**Thanks to ALL my wonderful readers/reviewers for your encouragement! :)**

**ENJOY!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own ASOUE or any of the characters besides my OCs.**

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**The Insidious Island**

**Chapter One: Shipwrecked**

I stood gloomily at the back of the boat, using my spatula to row while staring out across the open waters. If I had been on this boat for recreational purposes, I might have enjoyed the sun against the cloudless blue sky and watched it glimmer on the water, making it sparkle like a thousand diamonds. I would have stuck my hand in the water and let it drift over the soft, lapping waves. And I would have loved the humidity that filled the air as the warmth of the sun caressed my skin. Maybe I would have written a song about the sea's beauty. But these circumstances made it difficult to enjoy our surroundings, particularly since these surroundings were all I've seen for a number of days. The majestic surroundings were now dull. The sun's heat was now oppressive and too bright—I could feel my skin was burnt in several spots. The endless horizon was never changing and frightened me almost as much as the time I had been locked in that cage at the bottom of the elevator shaft at 667 Dark Avenue. All I could do was watch as the boat drifted farther and farther out to sea, and gaze out at the endless horizon.

"I've triumphed!" Count Olaf repeated for the umpteenth time. He stood proudly at the front of the boat, leaning against a carving of an octopus attacking a man in a diving suit that served as the boat's figurehead, which of course contained the Medusoid Mycellium. "You orphans thought you could escape me, but at last you're in my clutches!"

"Yes, Olaf," Violet agreed wearily.

"I've burned down the Hotel Denouement," Olaf cried, gesturing dramatically, "and destroyed V.F.D. once and for all!"

"So you keep telling us," Klaus muttered, without looking up from his commonplace book.

"And the Baudelaire and Murray fortunes are finally mine!" Olaf cackled. "Finally, I am a very wealthy man, which means everybody must do what I say!"

"Beans," Sunny said by "beans" she meant something like, "Count Olaf is spouting pure nonsense."

Speaking of beans, we have been surviving on a jar of edible white beans we found underneath one of the boat's benches. I was grateful for the jar, because there was nothing else to eat but it only contained white beans which didn't taste too good and weren't very filling.

"I think the first thing I'll buy for myself is a shiny new car!" Count Olaf said. "Something with a powerful engine, so I can drive faster than the legal limit, and an extra-thick bumper, so I can ram into people without getting all scratched up! I'll name the car _Count Olaf_, after myself, and whenever people hear the squeal of brakes they'll say, 'Here comes Count Olaf!' Orphans, head for the nearest luxury car dealership!"

"That doesn't sound very pleasant," I muttered. "It's a waste of money if you ask me."

"I don't care what you think, orphan," Olaf growled. "I get to decide what to do with the money."

I wanted to mention that our money wasn't on the boat so he technically couldn't spend anything, but I knew it wouldn't be wise to anger him when we were in the same boat.

"Besides," I said, "how are we supposed to find a car dealership out here?"

"Jane's right. We can't head for a car dealership," Violet said. "We can't head anywhere. The wind has died out, and Klaus, Jane, and I are exhausted from rowing."

"Laziness is no excuse," Olaf growled. "I'm exhausted from all my schemes, but you don't see me complaining."

"Furthermore," Klaus said, "we have no idea where we are, and so we have no idea which direction to go in."

"I know where we are," Olaf sneered. "We're in the middle of the ocean."

"Beans," Sunny said.

"I've had enough of your tasteless mush!" Olaf snarled. "It's worse than that salad your parents used to make! All in all, you orphans are the worst henchmen I've ever acquired!"

"We're not your henchmen!" I cried. "I may have been before but I'm tired of it!"

"I think you're forgetting who the captain is around here," Count Olaf said, and knocked one dirty knuckle against the boat's figurehead. With his other hand, he twirled his harpoon gun, which only had one harpoon left. "If you don't do what I say, I'll break open this helmet and you'll be doomed. So you still are my henchwoman Jamie, whether you like it or not. The Baudebrats can just be my slaves."

"For the umpteenth time," I said, "I already told you I don't want to be a villain anymore."

"And how do you expect me to believe that?" Olaf said, "You change your mind so many times I can't keep track. Besides, we had an agreement that if I took you with me, then you would forever be my henchwoman."

"The agreement was that I would join you and help you with your plans," I said, "and then I would be treated better or something. It was already implied that I was coming with you regardless of my decision."

"Enough with your nonsense, Blondie," Olaf growled. "Don't make me have to warn you again about my dangerous weapon, you wouldn't want your poor friends to suffer with you. Now as long as I have my weapons, you must be my henchwoman and do what ever I tell you."

I looked at the figurehead in despair. If it were just Olaf and I in the boat, I might not have cared about his threats as much. In fact, I would have enjoyed his annoyance at the fact that he could kill me whichever way he desired, but if I died, he wouldn't get my fortune. But I wasn't concerned so much for my safety. Unfortunately, exposure to the poison for me would mean exposure for the Baudelaires. Olaf, unfortunately, was well aware of that weakness. I sighed. At least we were in a boat and he couldn't make me do anything like shoot a crow or a man for that matter. It was I who had held the gun in the moments before it fired, killing Dewey Denouement. I still couldn't help my feelings of immense guilt whenever I looked at the harpoon gun.

"You wouldn't dare release the Medusoid Mycelium," Klaus said. "You'd be poisoned as quickly as we would."

"Equivalent flotilla," Sunny said sternly.

"Our sister's right," Violet said. "We're in the same boat, Olaf. The wind has died down, we have no idea which way to go, and we're running low on nourishment. In fact, without a destination, a way of navigating, and some freshwater, we're likely to perish in a matter of days. You might try to help us, instead of ordering us around."

Count Olaf glared at Violet, and then stormed over to the far end of the boat. "You four figure out a way to get us out of here," he said, "and I'll work on changing the nameplate of the boat. I don't want my yacht called _Carmelita _anymore. Oh, and Jamie sing us another song. I don't like you very much but you have a nice voice and I'm tired of listening to you brats whine."

I wasn't sure if that was supposed to be meant as a compliment or not. I sighed and thought of yet another song to sing. Olaf usually made me sing whenever he wanted to take a break from bragging, which was rare. Fortunately, I found it entertaining when I sang too since I've been deprived of any other sort of music and I didn't mind it too much. So while the Baudelaires peered over the edge and then, grouped together to talk, I sang:

"Oh, my God, I think I'm lost at sea

These silent waves are my company

And, I lost the line between the sky and sea

I'm wondering will the wind ever come for me.

Yeah.

'Cause I don't know, I don't know where I am

Can you tell me, will I break or will I bend?

Will the wind ever come again?

I feel the sun coming up, rising from the east

I see the empire falling to her knees

I lost the line between her and me

My troubles are gone if the wind ever comes for me.

Yeah.

'Cause I don't know, I don't know where I am

Can you tell me, will I break or will I bend?

Will the wind ever come again?

I dreamed I found the shoreline

You're standing there

I dreamed I found you waiting.

You were waiting for me, waiting for me.

I try to kiss the emptiness,

I lost the line between the sky and sea

I feel the sun coming up, coming up, coming up, coming up

And I don't know, I don't know where I am

I will break or I will bend

Will the wind ever come again?

Yeah, yeah, yeah."

When I finished Count Olaf straightened up and gave us a triumphant grin. I noticed the Baudelaires looked uneasy and I wondered why. "I'm a genius!" he announced. "I've solved all of our problems! Look!"

The villain gestured behind him with his thumb, and I noticed the nameplate had been changed from CARMELITA to COUNT OLAF, attached with tape.

"Wow," I said sarcastically. The days spent on this boat have been very long and I was starting to grow irritated. "Great job, you know how to spell your own name. But I don't see how that solves our problems."

"Jane is right," Klaus said. "We still need a destination, a way of navigating, and some kind of nourishment."

"There's no wind to take us anywhere quickly," Violet added.

"Unless," Sunny said, but Count Olaf interrupted her, laughing cruelly.

"You four are really quite slow-witted," Olaf said. "Look at the horizon, you fools, and see what is approaching! We don't need a destination or a way of navigating, because we'll go wherever it takes us! And we're about to get more fresh water than we could drink in a lifetime! I suppose your little song worked, Blondie."

I looked out at the sea and saw the immense black clouds filling the sky, announcing the approaching storm, which promised to be fiercer than any storm I've experienced. Rain had already begun to fall a distance away and lightning flashed against the clouds.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Count Olaf asked, his scraggly hair already fluttering from the strong winds. Over his nefarious chuckle I could hear thunder approaching with the storm. "A storm like this is the answer to all your whining. I'm such a genius!"

"Oh yeah," I muttered. "Thanks for inventing the weather!"

Olaf glared at me.

"It might destroy the boat," Violet said, looking nervously up at the tattered sails. "A boat of this size is not designed to withstand a heavy storm."

"We have no idea where it will take us," Klaus said. "We could end up even further from civilization."

"All overboard," Sunny said.

"We might not be able to endure such a fierce storm on this tiny boat," I said. "And…I don't really know how to swim. I could drown!"

"I don't think I'd mind that," Olaf said, obviously still irritated that I insulted him. Then he gazed at the horizon with a smile as if he were welcoming the storm. "Yes, those things might happen," he said with a wicked smile. "But what are you going to do about it, orphans?"

I looked from Olaf to the storm, finding it hard to believe that only moments before, the sky had been clear—now a mass of dark clouds loomed in the distance, staining the sky like ink. The worst part, was that there was nothing we could do about it. The only thing we could do was try to survive it and it seemed as if those chances were very slim.

There were no words to describe the horror of this storm as we tried to survive on our large, wooden boat. The rain fell in enormous buckets on our heads and we were drenched in minutes from head to toe as if we had stepped into a cool shower. The wind howled and the force tore the sails and sent the boat rocking, nearly hurling us over board numerous times. In fact, the majority of the boats contents were sent into the sea such as the jar of white beans, the spatulas, and lastly the sheets Violet had used to make a drag chute. Streaks of lightning flashed again and again from the dark, swirling clouds above our heads. Sometimes the lightning would strike the mast of the boat and it fell away into the fierce waters, churning like a whirlpool and sending the boat spinning like crazy.

The waves grew in size as the storm progressed and rose out of the water like mountains, crashing down on the boat with an unnatural roar. At first, I had clung to the bench. Count Olaf clung to the harpoon and the wooden figurehead as if they were the most important things in the world. The Baudelaires were huddled together on the opposite side of the boat. One jolt of the boat nearly sent me over the edge but a hand grabbed my arm, holding me steady. I knew it had been Klaus before I even glanced behind me. He pulled me over to them since there was no chance of me making my way over there without falling out.

Despite the horrible storm, it was comforting to know that the Baudelaires were with me. Even though I was still kind of mad at him for not believing me, I could see Klaus was really trying to make amends. Maybe I should too.

So I huddled with the Baudelaires during the storm, feeling frightened but content with where I was. Count Olaf's cries grew more frantic, and the wooden boat dwindled down to a raft, and then bits and pieces of wood, yet there was a sense of safety, knowing that I wasn't entirely alone. So if this were the way I was meant to die, perhaps it would be better than dying alone—with nothing.

* * *

The sun shone overhead. It was morning. The sky was back to the usual clear, blue and all the evidence of the storm had disappeared as though we had merely conjured it. There was, however, the evidence of the boat's remains scattered all around us. We stood up from the small piece of wood and looked around. My limbs were sore from clinging to life all night long. I still couldn't believe we had survived.

As I gazed at our surroundings, I was surprised to find that we were standing on a flat and wet landscape that stretch out all around us. The water wasn't very deep, like an enormous puddle. That wasn't the strangest part—the water was littered with all kinds of items unusual to find in the middle of the ocean.

I saw long ropes tangled into complex knots, large pieces of wood jutting out of the water, seaweed was all over the place, and thousands of fish. Seabirds circled above us in the empty sky. There were objects that looked like pieces of other boats or carog that had crashed from anchors to masts and to smashed barrels. A typewriter leaned against a large, impressive birdcage, guppies swam around its keys. A huge, brass cannon had a large crab trying to crawl out of the barrel. A torn net was caught in the blades of a propeller. It seemed as though the storm had swept all of the sea's contents on the ocean floor.

"What is this place?" Violet said, in a hushed whisper. "What happened?"

Klaus took his glasses out of his pocket. "I think we're on a coastal shelf," he said. "There are places in the sea where the water is suddenly very shallow, usually near land. The storm must have thrown our boat onto the shelf, along with all this other wreckage."

"Land?" Sunny asked, holding her tiny hand over her eyes so she could see farther. "Don't see."

Klaus stepped out of the boat. The dark water didn't come up past his knees, and he around the boat in careful strides. "Coastal shelves are usually much smaller than this," he said, "but there must be an island somewhere close by. Let's look for it."

I climbed out of the boat and Violet followed, carrying Sunny since she was still too short.

"Which direction do you think we should go?" I asked. "We don't want to get lost."

Sunny gave us a small smile. "Already lost," she pointed out.

"Sunny's right," Klaus said. "Even if we had a compass, we don't know where we are or where we are going. We might as well head in any direction at all."

"Then I vote we head west," Violet said, pointing in the opposite direction of the rising sun. "If we're going to be walking for a while, we don't want the sun in our eyes."

"Unless we find our concierge sunglasses," Klaus said. "The storm blew them away, but they might have landed on the same shelf."

"We could find anything here," Violet said. She spoke the truth because we had only taken a few steps when we saw Count Olaf. I was hoping the storm would have washed him away from us. He was stretched out flat on his back with his harpoon gun laid on one of his shoulders. His eyes were closed and he was very still. It was odd to see him look so calm.

"I guess we didn't need to throw him over-board," Violet said. "The storm did it for us."

Klaus leaned down to look closer, but he didn't move an inch. "It must have been terrible," he said, "to try and ride out the storm with no kind of shelter whatsoever."

"Kikbucit?" Sunny asked, meaning, "Is he dead?"

"I don't know," I answered. "Maybe we shouldn't stick around to find out."

But before we could begin to move, the count's eyes opened. He frowned and looked around.

"Where am I?" he muttered, spitting a piece of seaweed out of his mouth. "Where's my figurehead?"  
"We're at a coastal shelf," I said, "and as for your precious weapon, it's probably scattered among this junk."

Count Olaf blinked and sat up. He glowered up at us and shook water out of his ears. "Get me some coffee, orphans!" he ordered. "I had a very unpleasant evening, and I'd like a nice, hearty breakfast before deciding what to do with you."

"There's no coffee here," Violet said. "We're walking west, in the hopes of finding an island."

"You'll walk where I tell you to walk," Olaf growled. "Are you forgetting that I'm the captain of this boat?"

"What boat?" I said.

"The boat is stuck in the sand," Klaus said. "It's quite damaged."

"Well, you're still my henchpeople," Count Olaf said, "and my orders are that we walk west, in the hopes of finding an island. I've heard about islands in the distant parts of the sea. The primitive inhabitants have never seen civilized people, so they will probably revere me as a god."

I sighed. It was ridiculous for Count Olaf to think that just because people had a different society meant they would automatically praise him. They probably had their own cultures and beliefs—something that they probably wouldn't give up for a stranger. Then again, people always seemed to find a reason to respect or praise Olaf for being villainous and some people couldn't even see how evil he was even when it dangled in front of their faces. Suddenly, I wished we had managed to leave Olaf behind.

We traveled together, heading west across the debris filled coastal shelf without another word, wondering what lay ahead of us. Count Olaf traveled in front with his harpoon gun balanced on one shoulder. Every so often he would demand we make him coffee and other breakfast items that were nowhere to be found.

Violet and Klaus walked behind Olaf. Violet held a broken banister and was using it as a walking stick, poking at certain mechanical scraps she found. Klaus was jotting notes in his commonplace book. Sunny was perched on Violet's shoulders, serving as a lookout.

I walked behind them, frowning when I saw a guitar had been damaged from the storm. Occasionally, I wrote in my own notebook. I don't know why I did it. I knew by now that it would probably never be useful. But maybe if someone were to find it and read it, at least someone would know of our story. Besides, it somehow made me feel better to write everything down. I had written the events from when I arrived at the Hotel Denouement to when I had gone shopping with Esmé by the time Sunny announced that we arrived.

"Land ho!" she cried triumphantly. She pointed into the mist, and I could see the faint shape of an island rising out of the shelf. The island looked narrow and long, like an enormous ruler. I could see sheets of white cloth billowing in the wind.

"I've discovered an island!" Count Olaf cackled. "I'm going to name it Olaf-Land!"

"You didn't discover the island," Violet said. "It appears that people already live on it."

"And I am their king!" Count Olaf pro-claimed. "Hurry up, orphans! My royal subjects are going to cook me a big breakfast, and if I'm in a good mood I might let you lick the plates!"

"You can't just demand to be king," I said, "Clearly you're not the first person they've encountered."

"Yes but I'm the most civilized," Olaf said. "They're only primitives."

I sighed and continued to head for the island. After walking around a grand piano that stuck out of the water as if it had fallen from the sky, something caught my eye and I looked to see a small white figure hurrying toward us.

"What?" Sunny asked. "Who?"

"It might be another survivor of the storm," Klaus said. "Our boat couldn't have been the only one in this area of the ocean."

"Do you think the storm reached Kit Snicket?" Violet asked.

"Or the Quagmires?" I said.

Count Olaf scowled, and put one muddy finger on the harpoon gun's trigger. "If that's Kit Snicket or some bratty orphan," he said, "I'll harpoon her right where she stands. No ridiculous volunteer is going to take my island away from me!"

"You don't want to waste your last harpoon," Violet said, thinking quickly. "Who knows where you'll find another one?"

"That's true," Olaf admitted. "Maybe you can be my henchwoman after all with Blondie. The rest will be my slaves."

"I told you," I said, "I'm not your henchwoman and neither is Violet. I only agreed because we were in the same boat, but now that boat is long gone."

"You already made a deal, Blondie," Olaf said. "This time you have no choice."

"Poppycock," Sunny growled, baring her teeth at Count Olaf.

"My sister's right," Klaus said. "It's ridiculous to argue about volunteers and henchpeople when we're standing on a coastal shelf in the middle of the ocean."

"No one on that island is going to want you around," I said, "you cause way too much chaos."

"Don't be so sure, orphan," Olaf replied. "No matter where we are, there's always room for someone like me." He leaned down close to us and gave us a sly smile, as if he were telling a joke. "Haven't you learned that by now?"

I got an unsettling feeling in my gut at his words, but before we could say anymore, the figure came closer. I could finally see that it was a child around six or seven years old.

She wasn't wearing any shoes and wore a bland, white robe. It was very clean and I could see she must not have been in the storm at all. A large, white seashell hung from her belt and she wore a pair of sunglasses similar to the pair the Baudelaires wore when they were concierges. She wore a wide grin but when she reached us, she grew very shy. I remained quiet too but I smiled to assure her that we were friendly—well except Olaf of course. Olaf didn't speak either; he was busy admiring his reflection in the water.

"Hello," I said cordially. She was a very cute kid and reminded me a bit like myself when I was that age. "What's your name?"

The girl was fiddling nervously with her seashell. At my question, she looked up and answered, "Friday."

"It's nice to meet you, Friday," I said, "My name is Jamie Murray, but you can call me Jane."

Friday's smile returned. "It's nice to meet you, Jane," she replied.

"Do you live on the island, Friday?" Violet asked.

"Yes," Friday said. "I got up early this morning to go storm scavenging."

"Storm scavawha?" Sunny asked.

"Every time there's a storm, everyone in the colony gathers everything that's collected on the coastal shelf," Friday said. "One never knows when one of these items will come in handy. Are you castaways?"

"I guess we are," Violet said. "We were traveling by boat when we got caught in the storm. I'm Violet Baudelaire, and this is my brother, Klaus, and my sister, Sunny." She turned unenthusiastically to Olaf. He was busy glaring at Friday in suspicion. "And this is—"

"I am your king!" Olaf announced in a grand voice. "Bow before me, Friday!"

"No, thank you," Friday said politely. "Our colony is not a monarchy. You must be exhausted from the storm. It looked so enormous from shore that we didn't think there'd be any castaways this time. Why don't you come with me, and you can have something to eat?"

"We'd be most grateful," Klaus said. "Do castaways arrive on this island very often?"

"From time to time," Friday said, with a tiny shrug. "It seems that everything eventually washes up on our shores."

"The shores of Olaf-Land, you mean," Count Olaf growled. "I discovered the island, so I get to name it."

Friday looked oddly at Olaf from behind her sunglasses. "You must be confused, sir, after your journey through the storm," she said. "People have lived on the island for many, many years."

"Primitive people," sneered the villain. "I don't even see any houses on the island."

"We live in tents," Friday said, gesturing to the billowing white cloths on the island. "We grew tired of building houses that would only get blown away during the stormy season, and the rest of the time the weather is so hot that we appreciate the ventilation that a tent provides."

"I still say you're primitive," Olaf insisted, "and I don't listen to primitive people."

"I won't force you," Friday said. "Come along with me and you can decide for yourself."

"I'm not going to come along with you," Count Olaf said, "and neither are my henchpeople! I'm Count Olaf, and I'm in charge around here, not some little idiot in a robe!"

"There's no reason to be insulting," Friday said. "The island is the only place you can go, Count Olaf, so it really doesn't matter who's in charge."

"And you don't have any henchpeople," I added.

Count Olaf scoffed at me and then gave Friday a terrible look. He aimed his harpoon gun straight at the young girl. "If you don't bow before me, Friday, I'll fire this harpoon gun at you!"

I gasped. "No you don't," I said, stepping in front of Friday. Ever since Dewey Denouement's death, I vowed that the next time a harpoon was being used to threaten another person, I would try to protect whoever it was the way the Baudelaires had.

But it seems as though Friday wasn't afraid because she only frowned at him. "In a few minutes," she said, "all the inhabitants of the island will be out storm scavenging. They'll see any act of violence you commit, and you won't be allowed on the island. Please point that weapon away from me and Jane."

Count Olaf opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but after a moment, he shut it and lowered the harpoon gun sheepishly.

"Baudelaires, Jane, please come with me," Friday said. She started to guide us towards the island.

"What about me?" Count Olaf asked in a small, squeaky voice. I realized they were similar to the voices the people who were frightened of Olaf had made. It was the same noise our guardians had made, the same noise Mr. Poe made when Count Olaf confronted him, the same noise made by various volunteers including Monty Kensicle when speaking of his treachery, and even from his henchmen when they complained. I had made that noise too when Count Olaf threatened us, when he forced me to go willingly into his clutches, when he beat me and locked me in a cage, when he forced me to watch Jacques Snicket die, when he kidnapped Violet and then Sunny, when he nearly killed Violet and Klaus, when he stole my notebook, when he persuaded me to become his henchwoman, when he tried to make me shoot Dewey, and when I was convinced that my only option was to join him. After all this time of him instilling fear onto other people, I never thought I would hear that same noise from Olaf himself.

"You wouldn't abandon me, would you, Blondie?" Olaf said, "You're my henchwoman."

I looked at him, remembering all those times he had hurt me, and shook my head. "I'm not your henchwoman," I said as I started to follow Friday along with the Baudelaires.

"What about me?" Olaf asked again.

"Go away," Friday said firmly.

Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks and glanced behind me to where Olaf stood like another piece of debris from the storm.

"Are you coming, Jane?" Klaus asked, looking concerned. I knew he was afraid I really had chosen Olaf's side again.

"Don't worry," I said, softly, giving him a small smile. "I just need a minute."

Klaus smiled back. We were both silent for a moment. He was shifting his feet and I glanced toward the island, feeling a little awkward. But at least we weren't fighting again.

"I-I really am sorry, Jane," he said suddenly.

I sighed. "I know," I said, "I…I forgive you."

"Thanks," Klaus said. He looked at me as if he wanted to say or do something, but then he changed his mind.

"I've missed you, Jane," he said instead.

I nodded. "Me too," I said. "Um…how about a hug?"

Klaus nodded. "Um…yeah," he said, and I wrapped my arms around him, secretly enjoying being able to hug him again like before. I had to blink back my tears.

"Don't take too long," Klaus said as he hurried to catch up with Friday and his siblings.

I turned to face Olaf and found that he was grinning slyly. "I knew you'd stay with me, Blondie," Olaf said eagerly. "I knew you were just like your mother."

"You're right," I said, "I am like my mother…and now I'm going to do exactly what my mother did."

"You're going to leave me out here all by myself?" Olaf said, sounding a little desperate.

"A long time ago you promised me that I would have nothing," I said, "but it looks like you're the one who's all alone now." Then, I turned my back to the person who had caused us so much misery.

* * *

**Review!**

**The song is called _The Wind_ by the Fray. I thought it worked so well here! :)**


	15. Brave New World

_**New chapter! YAY! **_

* * *

**Chapter Two: Brave New World**

"Perhaps you would care for some coconut cordial," Friday said, in a cordial tone of voice. She reached down to hold up the shell that was hanging from her neck. She took out a stopper and I realized the shell was some kind of canteen. "You must be thirsty from your journey through the storm."

"We are thirsty," Violet admitted, "but isn't fresh water better for thirst?"

"There's no fresh water on the island," Friday said. "There's some saltwater falls that we use for washing, and a saltwater pool that's perfect for swimming. But all we drink is coconut cordial. We drain the milk from coconuts and allow it to ferment."

"Ferment?" Sunny asked.

"Friday means that the coconut milk sits around for some time, and undergoes a chemical process making it sweeter and stronger," Klaus explained.

"That sounds good," I said, trying to be polite.

"The sweetness will wash away the taste of the storm," Friday said. I took the seashell from her outstretched hands and took a small sip, grimacing as it slid down my throat, before passing it to Violet. The Baudelaires each took a sip. Friday was right—the cordial was very sweet but it also left me feeling wobbly and strange.

"It's a little strong for us, Friday," Violet said, as she returned the seashell to Friday.

"You'll get used to it," Friday said with a smile, "when you drink it at every meal. That's one of the customs here."

"I see," Klaus said, he jotted some notes in his commonplace book. "What other customs do you have here?"

"Not too many," Friday said, glancing from Klaus's notebook to our surroundings. I could spot a few figures of other islanders meandering around the coastal shelf, examining the wreckage they found. "Every time there's a storm, we go storm scavenging and present what we've found to a man named Ishmael. Ishmael has been on this island longer than any of us, and he injured his feet some time ago and keeps them covered in island clay, which has healing powers. Ishmael can't even stand, but he serves as the island's facilitator."

"What's a facilitator?" I asked.

"A facilitator is someone who helps other people make decisions," Klaus explained.

Friday nodded in agreement. "Ishmael decides what detritus might be of use to us, and what the sheep should drag away."

"There are sheep on the island?" Violet asked.

"A herd of wild sheep washed up on our shores many, many years ago," Friday said, "and they roam free, except when they're needed to drag our scavenged items to the arboretum, on the far side of the island over that brae over there."

"Brae?" Sunny asked.

"A brae is a steep hill," Klaus said, "and an arboretum is a place where trees grow."

"All that grows in the island's arboretum is one enormous apple tree," Friday said, "or at least, that's what I've heard."

"You've never been there?" I asked in surprise.

"No one goes to the far side of the island," Friday said. "Ishmael says it's too dangerous with all the items the sheep have brought there. Nobody even picks the bitter apples from the tree, except on Decision Day."

"Holiday?" Sunny asked

"I guess it's something of a holiday," Friday said. "Twice a year, the tides turn in this part of the ocean, and the coastal shelf is completely covered in water. It's the one time a year that it's deep enough to sail away from the island. All year long we build two enormous outriggers, which is a type of canoe, and the day the tides turn we have a feast and a talent show. Then, anyone who wishes to leave our colony indicates their decision by taking a bite of bitter apple and spitting it onto the ground before boarding the outrigger and bidding us farewell."

"Yuck," the youngest Baudelaire said.

"There's nothing yucky about it," Friday said with a frown. "It's the colony's most important custom."

"That sounds neat," I said, "I like the part about the talent show. I love to sing and act more than anything."

"It is interesting and I'm sure you're very talented," Friday said. "Of course, people rarely leave this island. No one has left since before I was born, so twice each year we simply light the outrigger on fire, and push it out to sea. Watching a burning outrigger slowly vanish on the horizon is a beautiful sight."

"That sounds lovely," I said. I could imagine the marvelous sight though after my experience with fire, it probably would creep me out. "When are the Decision Days?"

"There will be one on the first day of the coming month," Friday said, "and another about two months later, always on the first day of the month."

"But it seems a waste to build two canoes every year only to burn them up," Klaus said.

"It gives us something to do," Friday said with a shrug. "Besides building the outriggers, there's not much to occupy us on the island. We catch fish, and cook meals, and do the laundry, but that still leaves much of the day unoccupied."

"Cook?" Sunny asked eagerly.

"My sister is something of a chef," Klaus said. "I'm sure she'd be happy to help with the cooking."

Friday smiled, and put her hands in her robe's pockets. "I'll keep that in mind," she said. "Are you sure you don't want another sip of cordial?"

I shook my head along with the Baudelaires. I just hoped there might be something else to drink so I wouldn't have to settle for coconut cordial or even worse—seawater.

"No, thank you," Violet said, "but it's kind of you to offer."

"Ishmael says that everyone should be treated with kindness," Friday said, "unless they are unkind themselves. That's why I left that horrible man Count Olaf behind. Were you traveling with him?"

I exchanged glances with the Baudelaires. After learning about this island's customs, it seemed like they were very strict and I worried that Friday wouldn't react well if we told her the truth. I know I had been a little glad to have Olaf away from us and small revenge for the way he's treated us, I still felt it was a bit cruel to leave him there, though, he probably would have done the same to us.

"It's more complicated than that," I said, "In fact, it would probably take up about the length of twelve whole books for us to explain."

"It depends on how you look at it," Klaus added.

Friday gave us a curious looks, but we had reached the shore of the island. There was a beach with crystal white sand almost blending in with Friday's robe. An outrigger was placed at the top of the slope, constructed of wild grasses and tree limbs. It looked just about finished as if Decision Day was going to arrive soon. There was another one beside it that was a little farther from being complete.

Behind the outriggers, I saw an enormous white tent, long like a train, filled with sheep sleeping on the ground. They were bound together by thick, worn rope. An old man, towering above the sheep, smiled at us. He had a thick, havocked beard and was perched on a throne-like chair made of white clay. Two clay blocks were covering his feet and he wore the same white robe as Friday's and a seashell hung from his belt. His voice was quite cordial as he smiled at us.

"What have we here?" he said.

"I found three castaways on the coastal shelf," Friday said proudly.

"Welcome, castaways," Ishmael said. "Forgive me for remaining seated, but my feet are quite sore today, so I'm making use of our healing clay. It's very nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, Ishmael," Violet said.

"Call me Ish," said Ishmael as he leaned down to give one of the sheep a scratch on the head. "And what shall I call you?"

"Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire," Fri-day chimed in before either of us could speak for ourselves. "And Jamie Murray."

"Baudelaire? Murray?" Ishmael repeated with raised his eyebrows. He gazed at us, speechless, as he drank from his seashell. For an instant, his smile seemed to fade. Then abruptly, he looked down at us with a hearty grin. "We haven't had new islanders in quite some time. You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like, unless you're unkind, of course."

"Thank you," Klaus said. "Friday has told us a few things about the island. It sounds quite interesting."

"It depends on how you look at it," Ishmael said. "Even if you want to leave, you'll only have the opportunity once a year. In the meantime, Friday, why don't you show them to a tent, so they can change their clothes? We should have some new woolen robes that fit you nicely."

"We would appreciate that," Violet said. "Our concierge uniforms are quite soaked from the storm."

"I know Esmé would have a heart attack if she saw me right now," I muttered, indicating my equally ruined clothes. Hopefully, I could still keep them to wear another time though. I wasn't becoming obsessed with fashion or anything, like Esmé, but I still felt sad about leaving her behind. The fashionable clothes were a comfort—hope that Esmé might have survived.

"Who's Esmé?" Friday asked and Ishmael seemed to frown again, as he took another drink from his seashell.

"Just someone I knew from the city," I explained, a little nervously. "She loves fashion."

"Well you weren't have to worry about that here," Ishmael said as his smile returned. His fingers intertwined with a strand of his beard. "Our custom is to wear nothing but white, to match the sand of the islands, the healing clay of the pool, and the wool of the wild sheep. Friday, I'm surprised you are choosing to break with tradition."

Friday blushed, and her hand moved up to the sunglasses she wore. "I found these in the wreckage," she said. "The sun is so bright on the island, I thought they might come in handy."

"I won't force you," Ishmael said calmly, "but it seems to me you might prefer to dress according to custom, rather than showing off your new eyewear."

"You're right, Ishmael," Friday said quietly. She took off her sunglasses with one hand while the other dashed into her robe's pockets.

"That's better," Ishmael said, and smiled at us. "I hope you will enjoy living on this island," he said. "We're all castaways here, from one storm or another, and rather than trying to return to the world, we've built a colony safe from the world's treachery."

"There was a treacherous person with them," Friday piped up eagerly. "His name was Count Olaf, but he was so nasty that I didn't let him come with us."

"Olaf?" Ishmael said, and his eyebrows raised again. "Is this man a friend of yours?"

"Fat chance," Sunny said.

"No, he isn't," Violet translated quickly. "To tell you the truth, we've been trying to escape from Count Olaf for quite some time."

"He's a dreadful man," Klaus said.

"Same boat," Sunny said.

"What about you, Miss Murray?" Ishmael asked, narrowing his eyes at me curiously.

"Well he's trying to steal my inheritance," I said, "So that's a firm no."

"Hmmm," Ishmael said thoughtfully. "Is that the whole story, children?"

I exchanged glances with the Baudelaires. Those few words we had uttered did not explain our entire story. As I said earlier to Friday, it would have taken several books to describe everything that had happened to us and even if we had time to explain everything from Count Olaf's arrival into our lives, to his murders or attempted murders of several of our guardians, to his deceit of several other guardians, from his various disguises ranging from Stephano to Detective Dupin.

I could have described his henchpeople from his girlfriend Esmé Squalor to the bald man, and about the sinister duo. But if we described our story to Ishmael, we would have had to express parts that did not shed light on us.

So instead of telling him the whole story, I nodded with the Baudelaires.

"It depends on how you look at it," Violet said, and we nodded in agreement.

"Very well," Ishmael said. "Run along and find your robes, and once you've changed, please give all of your old things to Friday and we'll haul them off to the arboretum."

"Everything?" Klaus said.

Ishmael nodded. "That's our custom."

"What about Klaus's glasses?" I asked.

"He can scarcely read without them," Violet added.

Ishmael raised his eyebrows again. "Well, there's no library here," he said quickly, glancing nervously at Friday, "but I suppose your eyeglasses are of some use. Now, hurry along, children, unless you'd like a sip of cordial before you go."

"No, thank you," Klaus said. "We've already tried some, and didn't care much for the taste."

"I won't force you," Ishmael said again, "but your initial opinion on just about anything may change over time. See you soon, children."

He gave us a small wave. We waved back as we followed Friday out of the tent and farther uphill where several other tents fluttered with the morning breeze.

"Choose any tent you like," Friday said. "We all switch tents each day—except for Ish-mael, because of his feet."

"Isn't it confusing to sleep in a different place each night?" Violet asked.

"It depends on how you look at it," Friday said, taking a sip from her seashell. "I've never slept any other way."

"Have you lived your whole life on this island?" Klaus said.

"Yes," Friday said. "My mother and father took an ocean cruise while she was pregnant, and ran into a terrible storm. A manatee devoured my father, and my mother was washed ashore when she was pregnant with me. You'll meet her soon."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Thanks. Sometimes I miss that I never knew him," Friday said, "but at least I have my mother. Now please hurry up and change."

"Prompt," Sunny assured her, and Friday took her hand out of her pocket to shake Sunny's hand.

We entered the tent closest to us to find a pile of folded robes in one corner. We changed into our new clothes, the white robe felt strange compared to what I normally wore. Though I felt odd abandoning my clothes for something so new and fresh as if I were leaving behind my previous life.

"I won't throw away this ribbon," Violet said, winding the slender piece of cloth through her fingertips. "I'm still going to invent things, no matter what Ishmael says."

"I'm not throwing away my commonplace book," Klaus said, holding the dark blue notebook. "I'll still research things, even if there's no library here."

"Me neither," I said, holding up my light blue notebook. "This has our entire story in it—at least the parts I witnessed. And I hope I'm allowed to sing."

"No throw this," Sunny said, and held up a small metal implement for us to see.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Whisk," Sunny said.

"Oh, right," I said, "Uncle Monty used one when we were preparing the coconut cream cakes."

Klaus smiled sadly. "That was the day we met," he said.

I returned his smile, feeling my cheeks reddening. "That was a good day," I said.

"It was," Klaus agreed.

"But where did it come from?" I asked Sunny.

"Gal Friday," Sunny said.

"She knows Sunny can cook," Violet said, "but she must have thought Ishmael would make her throw the whisk away."

"I guess she's not so eager to follow all of the colony's customs," Klaus said.

"Guesso," Sunny agreed, and put the whisk in one of her robe's pockets. Klaus did the same with his commonplace book, and Violet did the same with her ribbon, and I did the same with my notebook. Together, we stood for a moment, exchanging our pocketed secrets. I didn't like keeping secrets from people who had treated us with such kindness, letting us stay on their island. I was worried that continuing down this path would only lead us to more treachery like a flame that starts small and then grows into an enormous fire. But this notebook contained our lives and was the most important thing to me on my person, since my other belongings had been left behind at the Hotel Denouement, probably destroyed by now.

"I wonder if we're the only ones," I said. "Perhaps the other islanders have secret possessions of their own."

"Maybe," Violet said, "But I still don't feel good about this."

"We have to keep these items secret," Klaus said, "They're the only possessions we have."

I nodded. "I know I gave you my notebook not too long ago," I said, "but that was because I had rejected my old self to become a villain. Now that I'm trying to rebuild, I need this notebook more than ever. It reminds me of who I am."

We all agreed that it was necessary for us to keep these possessions secret and exited the tent. I gave Friday the clothes from my former life and I wondered about the other secrets being kept on this island. Could our new home really be this pleasant, trustworthy place it appears to be? Or is it only a charade to cover up an even bigger secret?

* * *

_**REVIEW!**_

_**-I forgot to clarify: In the actual story there's only one Decision Day but as great as it sounds for the Baudelaires and Jamie to stay on the island for an entire year, Klaus and Jamie would miss going to Hogwarts and that definitely can't happen so yeah I changed it to two Decision Days. :)**_

_**So I'll be going on vacation next week so i'm not sure if i'll be able to update again until i return but i'll upload more as soon as I can!**_

_**I thought this quote seemed appropriate lol:**_

_**"O wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world ! That has such people in't!" - The Tempest**_

_**I haven't read the Tempest though i really want to once my AP English teacher stops giving us five books a month to read! **_**:( **_**I did however read Brave New World and Lord of the Flies which were both equally creepy in their own unique ways lol.**_


	16. Smoke and Mirrors

**Here's a new chapter! Sorry it took longer! Midterms are coming up :(**

**Happy New Year! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Smoke and Mirrors**

When we returned to the facilitator's tent, it was crowded with islanders in identical white robes, holding an assortment of objects they had scavenged from the coastal shelf. The sheep were awake and positioned in two long lines, attached to a large wooden sleigh. Friday guided us among the sheep and the islanders who let us through, looking curiously at us as if we were new toys.

It made me feel nervous to have the islanders staring at us. It reminded me of the time when Carmelita 'accidentally' spilled marinara sauce on me at lunch. I had to walk through the cafeteria and the rest of the grounds, in humiliation, as I hurried away to my dorm. Though it made me uncomfortable, and my cheeks turned a little red, I was at least glad they weren't giving me weird looks. Actually, I couldn't help myself from sneaking glances at then every now and then. I didn't expect there to be so many castaways. I would catch one looking at me and I'd glance up, mustering a friendly smile, concealing the swarm of questions buzzing in my head.

Friday brought us to the base of Ishmael's chair. He gave us another one of his smiles as we sat at his clay-covered feet.

"Those white robes look very handsome on you children," he said. "Much better than those outfits you were wearing earlier. You're going to be wonderful colonists, I am sure of it."

"Pyrrhonic?" Sunny said, meaning, "How can you be sure of such a thing based on our clothing?"

"I can't tell you how much we appreciate this," Violet said, rather than translating. "We didn't know what would happen to us after the storm, and we're grateful to you, Ishmael, for taking us in."

"Everyone is taken in here," Ishmael said, though he forgot that Count Olaf had been abandoned. "And please, call me Ish. Would you like some cordial?"

"No, thank you," Klaus said. "We'd like to meet the other colonists, if that's all right."

"Of course," Ishmael said, and clapped his hands for attention.

"Islanders!" he cried. "As I'm sure you've noticed, we have four new castaways with us today–Violet, Klaus, Sunny and Jamie, the only survivors of that terrible storm. I'm not going to force you, but as you bring up your storm scavenging items for my suggestions, why don't you introduce yourselves to our new colonists?"

"Good idea, Ishmael," said someone from the back of the tent.

"Call me Ish," said Ishmael, stroking his beard. "Now then, who's first?"

"I suppose I am," said nice looking man carrying something large and metal that looked like a flower. "It's nice to meet you three. My name is Alonso, and I've found the propeller of an airplane. The poor pilot must have flown straight into the storm."

"What a shame," Ishmael said. "Well, there's no airplane to be found on the island, so I don't think a propeller will be of much use."

"Excuse me," Violet said hesitantly, "but I know something about mechanical devices. If we rigged the propeller up to a simple hand-powered motor, we'd have a perfect fan for keeping cool on particularly hot days."

The crowd murmured in agreement, and Alonso smiled at her. "It does get mighty hot around here," he said. "That's a good idea."

Ishmael took a sip of cordial and frowned at the object. "It depends on how you look at it," he said. "If we only made one fan, then we'd all be arguing over who got to stand in front of it."

"We could take turns," Alonso said.

"Whose turn will it be on the hottest day of the year?" Ishmael pointed out firmly and sensibly. "I'm not going to force you, Alonso, but I don't think building a fan is worth all the fuss it might cause."

"I suppose you're right," Alonso said, with a shrug, and put the propeller on the wooden sleigh. "The sheep can take it to the arboretum."

"An excellent decision," Ishmael said while a girl a bit older than Violet stepped forward.

"I'm Ariel," she said, "and I found this in a particularly shallow part of the shelf. I think it's a dagger."

"A dagger?" Ishmael said. "You know we don't welcome weapons on the island."

Klaus squinted at the item, which was made from wood instead of metal. "I don't think that's a dagger," Klaus said. "I believe it's an old tool used for cutting the pages of books. Nowadays most books are sold with their pages already separated, but some years ago each page was attached to the next, so you needed an implement to slice open the folds of paper and read the book."

"That's interesting," Ariel remarked.

"It depends on how you look at it," Ishmael said. "I fail to see how it could be of use here. We've never had a single book wash ashore the storms simply tear the pages apart."

"You never know when a book might turn up," he pointed out. "In my opinion, that tool might be useful to keep around."

"I think so too," I said, backing Klaus up. Klaus gave me an appreciative glance.

Ishmael sighed, glancing from Klaus to me and lastly at Ariel.

"Well, I'm not going to force you, Ariel," he said, "but if I were you I would toss that silly thing onto the sleigh."

"I'm sure you're right," Ariel said. She gave Klaus a shrug and placed the item on the sleigh.

"Sherman's the name," said Sherman, with a little bow to us. "And I found a cheese grater. I nearly lost a finger prying it away from a nest of crabs!"

"You shouldn't have gone to all that trouble," Ishmael said. "We're not going to have much use for a cheese grater without any cheese."

"Grate coconut," Sunny said. "Delicious cake."

"Cake?" Sherman said. "Egad, that would be delicious. We haven't had dessert since I've arrived here."

"Coconut cordial is sweeter than dessert," Ishmael said. He took a sip from his seashell. "I certainly wouldn't force you, Sherman, but I do think it would be best if that grater were thrown away."

Sherman drank some cordial before nodding.

"Very well," he said.

Two men stepped forward, trying to carry the grand piano. One of them had an exceptionally curly mustache.

"I'm Ferdinand," the first one said.

"I'm Byam," the one with the curly mustache said. "And we've found this grand piano."

"Cool," I said, excitedly.

"What can we use a piano for?" Ishmael asked. "It won't benefit us."

"Of course it will," I said, "Music is always wonderful if it's full of passion. It brings peace and happiness and sometimes sadness, but that doesn't mean it's bad."

"That's true," Ferdinand said in agreement, "It would be a nice form of entertainment."

"It depends on how you look at it," Ishmael said, "It would cause too much competitiveness. And we don't have anything to teach anyone how to play."

"You don't need instructions," I said, "I taught myself how to play. Music doesn't have to be about competition. The delight and beauty outweighs everything else that could be wrong about it."

"Well, I'm not going to force you, but I think you should lift that piano onto the sleigh," Ishmael said. Ferdinand and Byam shrugged at me and then hoisted the piano onto the sleigh.

I frowned. I didn't like the idea of having to give up music. I don't know how I would have made it through all this misery without it. In fact, I've recently started writing my own song, something I've been hoping to do for a while now.

The rest of the morning went about in the same way. More islanders presented more items they had discovered. A bearded man named

Robinson found a pair of overalls, but Ishmael reminded him that the colony only wore the customary white robes. An old woman named Erewhon discovered a pair of skis that Ishmael dismissed as impractical, and a red-haired woman named Weyden offered a salad spinner, but Ishmael reminded her that the island's only salads were to be made from the seaweed that was rinsed in the pool and dried out in the sun, rather than spun. A boy named Omeros was about the same age as Klaus and I and he had found playing cards that Ishmael feared would lead to gambling. A young girl named Finn presented a typewriter, which was deemed useless without paper. Brewster presented a window, which wasn't needed to view the island. Calypso brought forth a door that was equally unnecessary. Byam came forward again with some batteries but discarded them. Willa, who had an exceptionally large head, disposed of a garden hose encrusted with barnacles. Mr. Pitcairn discarded the top of a chest of drawers and Ms. Marlow followed with the bottom of a barrel. Dr. Kurtz threw away a silver tray and Professor Fletcher ejected a chandelier. Madame Nordoff denied the island a checkerboard, and Rabbi Bligh discarded a large, ornate birdcage. The only items that remained were a few blankets and a few nets. At last, two siblings named Jonah and Sadie Bellamy presented the boat on which we had arrived, though the figurehead was missing. This was disposed of as well because it wasn't needed for either outrigger.

After the sheep wearily pulled the items on the sleigh away and disappeared over the brae, Ishmael suggested that the islanders excuse themselves to wash their hands for lunch. Now it was just Ishmael, Friday, and the Baudelaires and I.

"Quite a storm, wasn't it?" asked Ishmael, after a short silence. "We

scavenged even more junk than usual."

"Were any other castaways found?" Violet asked.

"I don't believe so," Ishmael said.

"What about Count Olaf?" I asked in concern. It unsettled me that the figurehead disappeared and it had to have ended up on the coastal shelf with us. Which meant there was still a chance of Count Olaf finding it.

"After Friday abandoned him," Ishmael said, "he'd never dare approach the island. He's either wandering around the coastal shelf, or he's trying to swim his way back to wherever he came from."

I exchanged glances with the Baudelaires. We all knew that Count Olaf was not one for giving up. Afterall, he probably still wanted our fortunes and he wasn't likely to give that up any time soon. I imagine he was hatching another scheme.

"We weren't just thinking of Olaf," Klaus said. "We had some friends who may have been caught in the same storm. A pregnant woman named Kit Snicket who was in a submarine with some associates, and a group of people who were traveling by air."

Ishmael frowned, and took a drink from his seashell. "Those people haven't turned up," he said, "but don't despair, Baudelaires. It seems that everything eventually washes up on our shores. Perhaps their crafts were unharmed by the storm."

"Perhaps," Sunny agreed. Though I didn't think we could be so lucky.

"They might turn up in the next day or so," Ishmael continued. "Another storm is heading this way."

"How do you know?" Violet asked. "Is there a barometer on the island?"

I knew a barometer was something used to detect the weather.

"There's no barometer," Ishmael said. "I just know there's one coming."

"How would you know such a thing?" Klaus asked. "I've always heard that the weather is difficult to predict without advanced instruments."

"We don't need any advanced instruments on this colony," Ishmael said.

"I predict the weather by using magic."

"Meledrub," Sunny said, which meant something along the lines of, "I find that very difficult to believe."

I silently agreed with her. Of course, after all my Matilda power incidents and after receiving the letter from Hogwarts, I've come to believe in magic's existence. But something about what he said made it hard to believe him. I didn't really trust Ishmael so much.

Ishmael must have read the doubt on our faces because he hurriedly changed the subject.

"What about you, Friday?" Ishmael asked. "Did you find anything else besides the castaways and those awful sunglasses?"

Friday looked quickly at Sunny, but then shook her head firmly. "No," she said.

"Then please go help your mother with lunch," he said, "while I talk to

our new colonists."

"Do I have to?" Friday asked. "I'd rather stay here, with the Baudelaires and Jamie."

"I'm not going to force you," Ishmael said gently, "but I'm sure your mother could use some help."

Friday left the tent without another word, hurrying up the slope towards the colonies' other tents. We were alone with our facilitator now, though I didn't really like the thought of Ishmael or anyone for that matter making decisions for me.

He leaned down to speak quietly to us.

"Baudelaires, Miss Murray," he said, "as your facilitator, allow me to give you a piece of advice, as you begin your stay on this island."

"What might that be?" Violet asked.

Ishmael looked around the tent, as if he were afraid someone was listening. He took another sip from his seashell, and cracked his knuckles. "Don't rock the boat," he said. He sounded cordial but there was something very uninviting hidden in his voice.

"We've been living by our customs for quite some time. Most of us can scarcely remember our lives before we became castaways, and there is a whole generation of islanders who have never lived anywhere else. My advice to you is not to ask so many questions or meddle around too much with our customs. We have taken you in, Baudelaires and Miss Murray, which is a kindness, and we expect kindness in return. If you keep prying into the affairs of the island, people are going to think you're unkind—just like Friday thought Olaf was unkind. So don't rock the boat. After all, rocking the boat is what got you here in the first place."

Ishmael smiled at his little joke. I gave him a nervous smile in return though I did not find his joke funny at all, since that shipwreck nearly killed us.

It was silent for a few moments before a pleasant-looking woman with a freckly face walked into the tent carrying an enormous clay jar.

"You must be the Baudelaires," she said, as Friday followed her into the tent holding a stack of bowls fashioned from coconut shells, "and you must be starving, too. I'm Mrs. Caliban, Friday's mother, and I do most of the cooking around here. Why don't you have some lunch?"

"That would be wonderful," Klaus said. "We're quite hungry."

"Whatya fixin?" asked Sunny.

Mrs. Caliban smiled, and opened the jar so we could peer

inside. "Ceviche," she said. "It's a South American dish of chopped raw

seafood."

"Oh," Violet said, though she didn't sound very enthusiastic about it.

I've never really eaten much seafood besides sushi, but Mrs. Caliban seemed like a nice person and so I decided I would give the dish a chance. At least it was better than those white beans.

"Thank you very much," I said as I took a bowl of ceviche and the odd wooden utensils Friday gave each of us, which were designed to look like a combination of a fork and a spoon.

"They're runcible spoons," Friday explained. "We don't have forks or

knives in the colony, as they can be used as weapons."

"You mean sporks or foons," I said, looking at the utensil in amusement.

Friday giggled. "That's a funny way of saying it," she said.

"I suppose that's sensible," Klaus said.

"I hope you like it," Mrs. Caliban said. "There's not much else you can

cook with raw seafood."

"Negihama," Sunny said.

"My sister is something of a chef," Violet explained, "and was suggesting that she could prepare some Japanese dishes for the colony, if there were any wasabi to be had."

I looked at Sunny and nodded. I knew she was asking mostly incase Olaf happened to let the fungus loose on the island. At least then we would have an antidote.

"We don't have any wasabi," Mrs. Caliban said. "We don't have any spices at all, in fact. No spices have washed up on the coastal shelf."

"Even if they did," Ishmael added quickly, "I think we'd just throw them in the arboretum. The stomachs of the colonists are used to spiceless ceviche, and we wouldn't want to rock the boat."

Klaus took a bite of ceviche from his spork and I noticed him grimace. I hoped it didn't taste that bad. Curious, I took a small bite of my own and found that it tasted too strange for me. I only liked the shrimp.

"Do you eat ceviche for every meal?" Klaus asked.

"Certainly not," Mrs. Caliban said with a little laugh. "That would get tiresome, wouldn't it? No, we only have ceviche for lunch. Every morning we have seaweed salad for breakfast, and for dinner we have a mild onion soup served with a handful of wild grass. You might get tired of such bland food, but it tastes better if you wash it down with coconut cordial." Mrs. Caliban reached into the deep pocket of her white robe and took out four seashells carved into canteens for the Baudelaires and I.

"Let's drink a toast," Friday suggested, holding up her own seashell. Mrs. Caliban raised hers, and Ishmael opened the stopper of his seashell once more.

"An excellent idea," the facilitator said, with a wide, wide smile. "Let's drink a toast to the orphans, the Baudelaires and Jamie Murray!"

"To the Baudelaires and Jamie Murray!" agreed Mrs. Caliban, raising her seashell.

"Welcome to the island!"

"I hope you stay here forever and ever!" Friday cried.

I smiled back at them though it was hard to be so enthusiastic when there was so much on my mind. I didn't like the idea of having only cordial to drink. I hoped refusing to drink it wouldn't be considered rocking the boat. What if Olaf had found the figurehead and was just bidding his time before he would release it? We might not have any defense if there wasn't any horseradish on the island. I kept wondering about the Quagmires and Monty Kensicle and Kit Snicket, wondering where they could be and if they were all right. Also, I'd been trying hard to forget over the past few days, but I couldn't help worrying about Esmé too. Not thinking about it has really been to keep me from thinking that she might not have made it. I couldn't bear to think of that. Even if she had hurt me when she turned her back on me, I didn't want her to suffer a horrible death. I was also still worried about the Baudelaires. Things were going alright and I was enjoying being on better terms with them, particularly Klaus. But maybe it was all just pretend. The pain I had felt was still there and I was nervous about letting myself get hurt once more. Most of all, I was curious as to why on earth Ishmael referred to us as orphans when we never told him our entire story.

I glanced down at the bowl of ceviche, at the Calibans, at my seashell, and lastly at our facilitator. I wondered if this place truly was safe from the wretched world and if not, what we should do about it. It seemed misery followed us wherever we went and I was afraid of the treacheries hidden on this island, confirming that there was no real safe place in this world.

"I won't force you," Ishmael said quietly to us, and I wondered if that was truly the case.

* * *

**Review!**

**Also, if you haven't seen Les Miserables, it's a MUST SEE! IT WAS AMAZING! Anne Hathaway's winning an Oscar for sure! :)**


	17. Shouldn't That Be Enough?

**New chapter! ENJOY!**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Shouldn't That Be Enough?**

So the Baudelaires and I decided to put up with the new culture in order to fit in. We wore the white robes despite them being too heavy for the warm weather, we drank some coconut cordial even though it made us feel a little dizzy, and we ate the ceviche even though it didn't taste very good. And we hid our personal items, such as my notebook, so we wouldn't rock the boat.

Despite everything, I began to settle into the daily life of the island. It could never feel like home to me, but I certainly felt a sense of security here. It was especially nice that we were accepted here and I'd definitely, rather live here than at Olaf's house or Mount Fraught or the small bedroom at Caligari Carnival or all those other horrible places I had to stay previously. Friday became a nice companion and I enjoyed spending time with her. She was perhaps the most welcoming of all the islanders and it was great to have a new friend to talk to whenever things got a bit dull. She secretly told me once that she would have loved to hear me sing something. Of course, I couldn't because it might rock the boat. I was at least allowed to hum a tune while I was working or whenever I was bored. Speaking of which, I wasn't used to living in a place without the addition of chaos and confusion, and so it was hard for me to adjust to this simplicity. At times it was very peaceful and relaxing and always safe, like a vacation, which is just what we needed. Other times, it was just boring. I think it would have been perfect if I were allowed to sing and play the piano, and if Violet, Klaus, and Sunny were allowed to explore their interests, as well. If that were so then, this island could have been almost like paradise, exempt of the bland tasting food, the heavy robes, and the coconut cordial. But those small things seemed like a fair price to pay for shelter from the world's treacheries. We didn't have to run anywhere and no one tried to hurt you.

So days passed, and we stayed safe and happier than either of us had been in a long time. Ishmael assigned us tasks to do daily.

Unfortunately, Klaus was stuck inside Ishmael's tent all day, as a sort of servant for Ishmael. That annoyed me. It seemed this place was supposed to be about equality yet Klaus was being treated like those sheep. Ishmael so far was the only part of the island that I despised. He pretended to be a leader but I didn't trust him for one second. It was hard for me to trust anyone after everything we've been through, but Ishmael's hypocrisy made me dislike him even more.

"He shouldn't be allowed to treat you like that," I said to Klaus when we were alone in the tent. After all, I knew all too well what it was like to be treated like a maid—just so other people could establish theirselves as superior to you. "It's just not right."

"Don't worry, Jane," Klaus replied. "It's not so bad. If it's a price I have to pay for all of us to remain safe, then I'll put up with it. I'd rather do chores for Ishmael for a nice home then have you taken away from us again to live with Olaf."

"I don't want you paying for my safety," I said, "besides, I'm fine. I survived."

Klaus gave me a sad look. "Barely," he said. "Look, I know it's not right, but we haven't been anywhere safe in a long time. We don't want to rock the boat."

I sighed. "I know," I said.

We left the tent and neither of us brought it up again. Klaus was right, of course, but I still wished I could do something about it.

As for Sunny, she assisted Mrs. Caliban with the cooking, which must not have been very exciting, since the three meals the colony ate weren't pretty basic. We were given a bowl of seaweed in the morning, a bowl of ceviche in the afternoon, and a bowl of onion soup along with wild grasses in the evening. Of course, we had coconut cordial as a beverage. Unfortunately, the island didn't have a source of fresh water and coconut cordial was all there was to drink. The sweetness satisfied my thirst but it hindered my ability to think properly.

Violet and I spent the days helping Friday, Professor Fletcher, and Robinson with the laundry. And so I spent most of my time at the saltwater falls, washing the robes and laying them out on rocks to let them dry. I liked the falls so it wasn't entirely the worst place to be throughout the day.

"I'm glad you're helping us," Friday said as we laid the wet robes out to dry on the rocks, "it was hard for the three of us to take care of all this laundry on our own. I was also hoping we could become friends."

"Of course we can," I said sweetly.

Friday smiled. "Cool," she said. "It's nice to have kids my age here. Ariel and Finn are friendly, but they're so much older than I am. I mostly talk to Omeros."

"Well, consider me your newest friend," I said, "So what's your favorite place to go on the island?"

"I like the coastal shelf," Friday said, "it's fun to gather all of those items and examine them. It's the only part of the world that I've seen. What's it like out there?"

"Honestly," I said, "the world out there is not as great as it seems. At least for me it wasn't. I lost my parents when I was very young. So if you need anyone to talk to about your father, then I completely understand how it must feel."

Friday's smile faded a bit. "I'm sorry," she said, "it was hard for me to lose my father. I couldn't imagine losing my mother too."

The moment her smile faded, it made my heart ache. Friday was always so positive and I felt as if I needed to protect that part of her—the part that was still innocent and still believed in the wonder of the world.

"Everything will be okay though," I said, "I'm sure my parents and your father are watching over us. I'm sure they're happy—wherever they are."

Friday's smile returned. "I hope so," she said.

I resumed laying out the robes.

"So do you…um…like Klaus?" Friday asked and then she grew very shy.

"How did you know?" I muttered with a chuckle.

"Sorry," Friday said, "I was just curious."

"Don't be," I said, "it's about time someone knew how I felt."

"Does he know?" Friday asked.

"Yes," I said. "But I don't know if anything's ever going to happen. I've been hoping at some point that we'll be together and everything will go back to how it was before…but then I get scared."

"Before?" Friday asked.

"It's complicated," I said, not wanting to unleash our past onto someone I only just met. "Klaus and I just had a falling out. This was when we were just best friends. He thought I did something terrible, but I didn't. Eventually, we learned to forgive each other, but I don't know if that's enough. It'll always be there, no matter what." I blinked back the tears that were forming in my eyes. I neglected to add Klaus kissing Fiona. It hurt so much already and saying it aloud would just make me feel worse.

"But why should that prevent you from mending things?" Friday said. "Maybe if you told him how you felt, he would understand and maybe things could get better."

"He already knows how I feel about him," I said.

"What's holding you back then?" Friday said with a giggle.

I grinned and uttered a giggle in response. Then, I frowned. "I suppose I'm just afraid," I said. "The last time I reached out to someone, that person walked away from me." Thinking of Esmé's betrayal. "I care about Klaus a lot and I couldn't bear it if I lost him again."

"You've never been together though," Friday said. "I've never really liked a boy so I can't relate, but maybe it's not as bad as it seems. If you like each other, shouldn't that be enough?"

I thought about it and the way she said it, it sounded so simple. And maybe she was right. If we both liked each other, what was stopping us from being more than best friends? That should be enough. I've never liked anyone as much as I liked Klaus. I've kept my feelings a secret for too long. I should be taking advantage of our time together—who knew when something—particularly Olaf—would tear us apart again?

"You're right," I said growing excited. "Why shouldn't that be enough? I'm tired of living with this feeling and not doing anything about it. If there's one thing I've learned from my life, it's that you shouldn't take things for granted—you should act while there's still time." I smiled up at the bright sun overhead against the limitless sky—so peaceful, so serene. But for the past months my life had been nothing short of disaster. Why couldn't_ I_ be happy for once? I'd done my time. It was my turn to have something. My heartbeat sped up and butterflies filled my stomach. "I'm going to tell him, Friday," I said, turning to beam at her. "Tonight."

Friday was thrilled at the idea and squealed in delight. I made sure to tell Violet who was just as ecstatic. We continued working silence. I was too excited to talk and my enthusiasm made it harder to focus on the task at hand. Part of me wanted to run to Ishmael's tent and blurt out my feelings, but I didn't think that would be appropriate. Besides, what if Ishmael had some rule against romance because of some ridiculous reason?

I was so distracted that I was doing a terrible job working and eventually, the sun began to dip below the horizon—announcing the end of the day. I went back to the tent I would be staying in that night and Violet volunteered to French braid my hair.

"You don't have to make such a big deal about this," I said as Violet braided my hair.

"It _is_ a big deal," Violet said with a bright smile. "You and my little brother are finally going to be together. It's the best news I've heard in a long time."

"I know it's been hard for you lately," I said, "I've been meaning to tell you how sorry I am about what happened to Quigley. I could tell he meant a lot to you."

Violet frowned. "I'm sure he's safe," she said, "wherever he is."

I always felt sorry for Violet. She was such a nice person yet so many terrible things happened to her. First, she's forced to almost marry Count Olaf and then, she loses Quigley.

"I'd do anything if it meant Quigley would return," I said.

Violet nodded. "I wouldn't repeat that phrase the next time Olaf shows though," she said.

It was silent as Violet continued to weave my hair together.

"Why do so many bad things happen to us?" I asked, not really expecting an answer. "We're good people—at least, we _were_."

"Let's try not to linger on bad thoughts tonight," Violet said softly. "We've suffered so much in the past months, I think we could all use something to get excited about."

My smile returned as I thought about dinner. "You're acting as if we're getting _married_," I said, rolling my eyes with a giggle.

Violet's smile returned and for a moment, all of our pain and sorrow melted away into laughter. Violet was right, we all needed a little faith right now and since _faith_ was my last name, I was certainly going to give everyone some. I grinned at my pun. For the first time in a while, I wasn't worried about what my name meant or who Faith was.

I had to admit it was nice having Violet help me with my hair. I pretended for a moment, that Violet was my big sister. I liked to do that sometimes—it was nice to forget for a moment who I was.

Friday even picked out a wildflower to tuck into She finished it off by tucking a wildflower in got ready, making my hair as nice as possible. Friday even gave me a wildflower to tucked behind my right ear. Sunny was in on the plan and her job was to distract Klaus until dinner so he wouldn't see me until I arrived.

I needed a moment to collect myself because I was terribly nervous. Violet, Sunny, and Friday left me along and I squeezed my eyes shut. This was it. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my notebook containing the events of my entire year. I knew if I read it, I would weep at the suffering the Baudelaires and I went through. Instead of dwelling on that, I turned to one of the recent pages. As I mentioned earlier, I had begun to develop an interest in writing my own lyrics. Of course, I've always loved music and I always hoped to write a song of my own someday, but I never really tried it out until now. I found the song I had written while we were at sea. Besides, it wasn't like there was much else to do on that boat with Count Olaf going on about his triumph. The song was about Klaus and I of course. Maybe I had my doubts about us at first, but we still had something special. So I figured maybe someday we would find a way to be together. I smiled to myself as I began to sing softly:

**"Distance"**

_"The sun is filling up the room_

_And I can hear you dreaming_

_Do you feel the way I do right now?_

_I wish we would just give up_

_Cause the best part is falling_

_Call it anything but love_

_And I will make sure to keep my distance_

_Say "I love you" when you're not listening_

_How long can we keep this up, up, up?_

_And please don't stand so close to me_

_I'm having trouble breathing_

_I'm afraid of what you'll see right now_

_I give you everything I am_

_All my broken heart beats_

_Until I know you understand_

_And I will make sure to keep my distance_

_Say "I love you" when you're not listening_

_How long can we keep this up, up, up?_

_And I keep waiting_

_For you to take me_

_You keep waiting_

_To save what we have_

_So I'll make sure to keep my distance_

_Say "I love you" when you're not listening_

_How long can we keep this up, up, up?_

_Make sure to keep my distance_

_Say "I love you" when you're not listening_

_How long 'til we call this love, love, love?"_

I let the notebook fall to the floor as I did a little twirl in excitement. I accidentally ended up tripping over my notebook and then, fell back onto my bottom. I giggled at my clumsiness and reached for my notebook. The notebook was still open, but to a different page. Curious, I began to read:

_I glanced back at the Queequeg, expecting the Baudelaires to be following at any moment._

_Olaf pressed the eye button on the wall and the doors slid open. He walked through, not bothering to check to see that I was behind him. Now was my chance._

_I dropped back and headed in the direction of the Queequeg. I could hear voices coming from inside the submarine and even though we were in a terrible situation, I kept thinking about Klaus. This was my chance to tell him what I felt about him all along._

_I reached the submarine at last and peered through the porthole that Olaf had destroyed with his sword. The Baudelaires were talking to Fiona and they didn't see me. "I'll miss you," I heard Klaus saying. "Won't you come with us, Fiona? Now that Olaf has the Medusoid Mycelium, we'll need all the help we can get. Don't you want to finish the submarine's mission? We never found the sugar bowl. We never found your stepfather. We never even finished that code we were going to invent."_

_Fiona nodded, looking sad, and went over to the wooden table. She picked up the book, Mushroom Minutiae, and then faced Klaus._

_"When you think of me," she said quietly, "think of a food you love very much." At that moment, she stepped forward and kissed Klaus on the mouth._

_I moved back from the window to where I couldn't be seen. I watched as Fiona left the submarine, without noticing that I was standing nearby and followed after the villains. I stared after her until she disappeared through the door. I glanced through the portal hole again, and saw Klaus had his hand up to his lips where Fiona had kissed him. I found myself suddenly unable to breathe as if I were the one being poisoned by the Medusoid Mycellium. It felt as if my heart had shattered all over the floor. I watched, numbly as the submarine began to edge its way back through the tunnel from where it had come. In only a few minutes, the Baudelaires were gone for good, Klaus taking my heart with him. I felt as though I were going to burst into tears. But all I could do was stare blankly ahead._

_"What do you think you're doing, Blondie?" Olaf growled viciously as he entered the room._

_"They're gone," I managed in a toneless voice, so quiet that I wasn't sure if I even spoke it aloud._

I closed the book and pushed it away from me as if it were a deadly snake. It was a mistake to read it. I should have known reading a single word would only bring back that ache in my heart that I tried for so long to live with as a constant reminder of that day. I looked around, blinking as I tried to suppress my tears. Fear filled me, causing me to doubt whether this was a good idea.

The flap of the tent opened and I looked up, startled to see Violet.

"Hurry up," Violet pressed. "We can't stall him for long. He's beginning to wonder where you are."

"O-oh, okay," I said, rising to my feet and putting away my notebook. I sucked in a deep breath and tried to tell myself that everything was okay, but my heart told me otherwise.

I followed Violet out of the tent and to the place we ate dinner every night. It was set up like a campfire with the pot of soup in the center over a fire and logs positioned around it. Violet ushered me to sit down next to Klaus who smiled at me.

"Hey," he said, "Where were you?"

"I was just…taking a nap," I said, quickly. "I was really worn out today from chores and…by life."

"I know what you mean," Klaus said, and he passed me a bowl of soup and a spoon.

"Thanks," I said. I stared down at my bowl as I aimlessly stirred the soup. Suddenly, I'd lost my appetite.

"You look pretty," Klaus blurted. I looked up and could see his face flushing red with embarrassment. "I'm sorry…"

He gave me an apologetic look. I pulled myself back together, Klaus had said something so sweet and all I could do was stare at him. I mentally shook myself and smiled.

"Don't be," I said, "I'm flattered…it's just that it came as a surprise, that's all."

Klaus nodded and it grew painfully silent. Violet, Sunny, and Friday were sitting on Klaus' other side as usual. I could sense their pressing stares as they waited for anxiously for me to say something—anything. But everytime I tried to utter words, I was brought back to that moment I stood, frozen, watching as Klaus kissed another girl.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" Klaus asked suddenly.

"Yeah, sure," I said. I could feel my nerves returning as I rose. We brought our soup along, planning to eat along the shore.

"Where are you going?" Friday asked.

"Just for a walk," Klaus said.

When I knew Klaus couldn't see me, I winked at them and they beamed back. I waved then, and began walking alongside Klaus. We were silent for a moment as the fire faded from view and we had reached the beach. We sat down underneath one of the towering coconut trees.

"I remember not too long ago, we sat together eating cold alphabet soup." Klaus said, after a moment. "I never thought I'd have a warm meal again."

I mustered a smile, remembering that moment. "It feels like it was another life time ago," I said, softly, as I stared down at my bare feet. "A lot of things have changed since then."

"Maybe this is the chance we've been looking for," Klaus said, "Finally we have a safe place to renew ourselves and make amends…"

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Are you still mad at me?" Klaus asked.

"No," I said, honestly. "I'm not. Mostly I'm just disappointed in myself."

"Because of your decision to join Olaf," Klaus stated.

I nodded. "I'm not proud of what I did," I said, "I just wish there was some way to take it all back—to erase everything."

"I know what you mean," Klaus said, "There are things I regret doing and I would give anything to go back to change them…Like not believing you…or all those times I failed to rescue you."

I glanced up at him. "I forgive you," I said, "in fact, I don't blame you for hating me. Just because I didn't push Madame Lulu didn't mean I didn't have similar intentions."

"You never would have done it," Klaus said. "I know you would have stopped. Because that's not the kind of person you are. You're not a murderer, Jane."

"But it's still my fault that Dewey's dead," I said, feeling myself about to choke up.

Klaus put an arm around my shoulder to comfort me. "Don't blame yourself, Jane," he said. "You stopped. I wish I could've stopped myself from assisting Ernest Denouement with Count Olaf's latest scheme to snatch the sugarbowl. You shot down the crow, didn't' you?"

"It's a little more complicated with that," I said.

"Why don't you tell me?" Klaus said, "I'm good with complicated."

"I was supposed to do it," I said, "I was going to, but then, Count Olaf learned that you were down in the lobby. He left the rooftop. So Esmé offered to do it for me."

"She cared about you," Klaus said, a little surprised.

"I don't know," I said, "At first I thought so, but then she walked away from me like that. I'm not so sure about it anymore."

"That really hurt you," Klaus said. "I saw the look on your face. I hope I never see you look so devastated again."

"I thought she'd change," I said, feeling tears filling my eyes. "I thought she cared about me enough to change…But then she abandoned me…just like everyone else."

"We're not going to abandon you, Jane," Klaus said, firmly. "Never again." His arm squeezed me in a sort of hug and I let him.

"So what made you almost go through with shooting the crow?" Klaus asked, "Were you really trying to help Olaf?"

"No," I said, "not at that point in time. I was posing as a spy. I didn't want to do it, but he threatened me—just like with the harpoon."

"What did he have over you, Jane?" Klaus asked, his face reddening in anger.

I shuddered as images of the man with the beard but no hair filled my mind. I'd been spending the past few days trying to forget that that ever happened. Now those thoughts and memories forced theirselves through the wall I'd put up.

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, but as much as I tried to, I couldn't hide the pain on my face as I recalled the terror I felt in those moments. "It's too horrible."

I couldn't stop shaking again. Everytime I thought about it, I felt like I was suffocating with fear. I looked out towards the sea and blinked in confusion at the dark shadow I saw there. The shadow morphed and the man with the beard with no hair stood there, his stone eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them—like lava rocks. I drew in a sharp breath, glancing at Klaus and then back at the figure. But it vanished into the vast darkness of the coastal shelf. I realized now that it must have been my mind playing tricks on me.

"Please," Klaus said, noticing my frantic expression, "I know it's hard for you to talk about it, but I want to understand. Besides, it might make you feel better to talk about it."

"Okay," I said. "Well, didn't you read my diary?"

Klaus nodded. "You're okay with that, right?"

"Yeah," I said, "I'd rather you read it than Olaf. At least you won't try and use it to get to me."

Klaus frowned. "Well, go on," he said.

"Do you remember reading about Heimlich Hospital?" I inquired. "The stuff that happened after Esmé caught Violet and I?"

Klaus frowned. "Yes," he said, sadly, "it was hard to read that, but I knew it was important to you. So many horrible things happened to you…and Violet. That's one of the things I wish I could take back. I shouldn't have let either of you go."

"Don't blame yourself," I said, "you didn't make Esmé do that. Violet did what she was obligated to as your sister—she cares about you and Sunny a lot. You're lucky."

"She cares about you too, Jane," Klaus said. "So what about the events afterward? What does that have to do with Olaf threatening you?"

"It's not about what Olaf threatened to do," I clarified. "It's about what happened before that—You read the part with the bald man, correct?"

I looked down at my feet as I waited for him to respond. There were some things I wished I could have kept Klaus from reading…

"It happened again?" Klaus asked. I could tell he was trying to remain calm, but the tone of his voice had an angry edge to it. "I thought the bald man died…"

"He did," I said. "It wasn't him that time…"

"Who?" Klaus said and then a look of disgust crossed his face. "It wasn't…?"

I knew who he was implying and I shook my head sharply.

"No," I said, quickly. "It was…the man with a beard but no hair. Olaf's associate. He didn't get away with it—I fought, Klaus. I fought really hard. Melissa was there too."

"Melissa?" Klaus said, in confusion.

"Melissa Sampson found me and we formulated our plan to set the recruits free," I said. "We got down to the basement where they were being kept and ran into Kevin. And then _he_ came. He intimidated Kevin into handing me over and brought me to where the recruits were kept. He trapped me inside this storage room. Oh, Klaus I was so scared. He came at me and I couldn't stop him…I was too…weak." Tears were falling from my eyes at this point. "Melissa came then, and tried to pull him off me. From that point, it was the two of us fighting against him. He almost killed her…but I knew….I just…I couldn't let another person die—not because of me. I've never fought harder in my life…we managed to knock him unconscious and escaped…"

I trailed off and it was silent. I glanced at Klaus uneasily when he didn't answer.

"You must be disgusted by me right now," I said. "I know I feel pretty filthy after that. Maybe that's why Esmé left."

"No," Klaus said, shaking his head. "_You're_ not disgusting." He was silent again. Tears brimmed his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Jane," he sobbed.

"I'm sorry too," I said, "for everything."

Suddenly, he leaned forward and enveloped me in a tight hug. I squeezed him tighter than ever and after a moment, began to sob. Soon enough, Klaus was sobbing too. We sat, holding onto each other and weeping for what seemed like forever.

Klaus pulled away suddenly, and with his arms still around me, we stared into each other's eyes—light blue against warm brown. Then, he leaned forward and I grew very still as he slowly closed the space between our faces. His lips were soft and slightly damp from crying, as they pressed against mine. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach. I sat frozen, caught off guard by his abruptness and the strange, but good feeling in my heart.

He pulled away and his brown eyes searched mine as if he was looking for my approval. Then, through all the haziness in my brain, a thought broke through and nearly crushed me all over again. I couldn't be sure what his intentions were behind that kiss or anything else. Was he just feeling guilty or did he really care about me?

"Klaus…" I managed. "You shouldn't have done that."

"I wanted to," he said, looking far into my eyes as if he could see my soul. "I've waited long enough to do that."

Klaus leaned forward again. But I couldn't let him kiss me again. I turned my cheek away and put out my hands out to stop him.

"Don't," I said. I turned my gaze towards the startled look on his face.

"What?" Klaus said.

"You can't do that," I said, "It's not fair." I got up from the ground, letting my soup spill onto the sand. I glanced out at the dark sea again and then, back at Klaus. "I'm sorry. But I can't. It's too hard."

Klaus got up too and took my hand. "Jane," he said, "please. What do I have to do for you to forgive me?"

"Why now?" I couldn't help spat at him. "You talk as if you've felt this way the entire time. Why now? After you also kissed Fiona."

Klaus frowned. "I've tried to tell you how I felt for as long as I can remember," Klaus said. "But things got in the way—foiling Olaf's schemes, other boys like Connor, mean girls, Count Olaf kidnapping you, attempting to rescue you and the Quagmires, lion shows, my near death experience…I'm sure there are plenty more times when I tried…so don't think that I wanted to wait until now to tell you." Klaus paused to glance at me and I noticed he was crying again. "I love you, Jane," he said, "That's why, _now_."

I shook my head, refusing to let myself look at him again. "I can't go through with this," I said, "Not while I don't know your intentions. I can't afford to let myself get hurt again. Not like _that_."

Klaus looked hurt, and I concentrated on the sea so I wouldn't have to see his pained expression. "Please, Jane…"

"I think you should go," I said, trying to disguise the pain in my voice because I knew his heart was hurting as much as mine was. "I'm sorry."

Klaus shook his head. "I forgave you…" he muttered quietly.

I looked at him, startled. "What are you talking about?" I asked.

"I know what this is really about," Klaus said. "You're thinking about Fiona."

"I'm sure I'm not the only one," I said, rolling my eyes.

"No," Klaus said, firmly, "I wasn't until you brought her up." I looked away from Klaus, frowning to myself. "You went to the dance with Connor, remember?" Klaus pointed out, "Even though you knew you liked me."

"What's your point?" I asked, still refusing to look at him.

"Sometimes we do things to hide from our true feelings," Klaus said. "I was afraid to confess my feelings for you. The idea of being with Fiona was easier because I didn't like her as much as I liked you. You have to understand where I was coming from when we kissed. I thought you'd betrayed my trust. You _and _Fiona did. I was hurt because I thought I'd lost you. Fiona kissed me goodbye and I didn't stop her because I was trying to feel that way again with her. It was easier to deal with Fiona being a traitor than you…because I didn't feel that way about her. It's strange how easily you can forgive someone you just met and not someone you love."

I was silent, my eyebrows furrowing, not sure of what I should do now. I knew he was right. But I just kept putting myself in that same moment when I had watched Klaus and Fiona kiss.

"It was always you, Jane," Klaus said, "from the very start. But if you want to pretend that you don't feel it too—if you're too afraid of letting your heart go, I'll understand. Just please, Jane. Make up your mind. We both know how precious time can be."

Klaus began to walk away from the beach.

"Klaus," I said, suddenly.

He stopped, turning to look at me, curiously.

"Yes?" he said, looking hopeful.

"Fiona was your first kiss, right?" I asked.

"Yes," Klaus admitted.

"You see, I did care about you, Klaus-I still do," I whispered, glancing at him again. "It's just that…I always thought something like a kiss might have meant more to you, rather than something you throw away to someone you say you _don'_t love." I paused, grimacing in pain as I realized: "Do you want to know my first kiss? You read about it in my notebook."

Klaus frowned, looking a little guilty. "I'm so sorry, Jane," he said and even through my anger, I could hear the sincerity in his voice. With that, he turned and was gone, leaving me standing alone underneath the coconut tree.

It was then that I couldn't bear it any longer. I sank to the sandy floor, and began to sob.

* * *

**Review! :)**

**Also, I didn't really write that song but I wish I did lol. It's called Distance by Christina Perri.**


	18. Treachery

**New chapter! **

**Sorry it took a little longer, i had a bunch of exams this week. ****But i'm done with them now so ****ENJOY!**

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**Chapter Five: Treachery**

I sat under the coconut tree, watching the waves crash against the shore. Klaus had probably returned by now and Violet, Sunny, and Friday would be disappointed that it didn't work out. I sighed heavily and got up off of the ground. I wandered down the beach, letting my feet brush against the cool, soft white sand, hoping I could find some sort of clarity.

At that moment, a shadowy figure blocked my view and I snapped out of my daze. I peered at the figure as it lingered a slight distance from the shore.

"Hello?" I called, nervously. "Who's there?"

The figure didn't move towards me, but it did lift a hand, gesturing for me to come closer. I glanced behind me where I could see a golden glow emanating from the fire pit. Dinner should be over soon and Violet, Klaus, and Sunny would probably be heading for the tent. Maybe I could ask Friday if I could stay in her tent tonight so I won't have to face Klaus. I knew he was hurting, but so was I. Maybe it was a good thing that I stopped him from kissing me. Maybe Klaus should be with someone who wasn't so afraid. But how could he expect me not to be so hesitant about being with him. It seemed that everytime I reached out to someone or gave them my heart, I got burned as if I was being punished. Either they were murdered (my parents and Jacques Snicket) or trying to humiliate me (Christina and Kate) or they were really Count Olaf's villainous girlfriend (Esmé) or they accused _me _of murder (the Baudelaires) or they kissed other girls (Klaus) or they walked away from me completely (Esmé). I couldn't trust another person with my heart like that. It hurt too much.

I sighed and turned back to the sinister figure. I moved further down the sandy slope and paused when I reached the edge of the coastal shelf. I could finally make out the features of this person. When I did, it only took me moments to figure out whom it was. I scowled at those shiny eyes that seemed to know when I was most vulnerable.

"Olaf," I said, in annoyance. Though I was slightly nervous. Who knew if he was about to unleash the Medusoid Mycellium? "What are you doing here?"

"I'm stuck on this coastal shelf," Olaf said in irritation. "Thanks to that brat who left me behind and you four for abandoning me. How could you do that to someone, Jamie?"

I ignored him. "All right," I said, "Now why are you_ here_? Why aren't you way out there?"

"Well, I was very upset when I was abandoned," he said as if he had been traumatized by the experience. "You know what I mean, don't you?"

"Go on," I said.

"And then I thought, 'why should I be the one stuck out here while those islanders enjoy everything this island has to offer?'" Count Olaf continued, "So I decided to do something about it. Then I saw you and I assumed you might have finally come to your senses and are going to join me."

"Well I'm not," I said.

"Why did you come down to see me then?" he asked. "You could have run away while you had the chance."

"I wouldn't have," I said, "if I'd known it was you."

"Why were you even out here by yourself?" Olaf asked, raising his eyebrow. "Why aren't you enjoying your spectacular new life on this island?"

I glanced behind me again and shivered. "No reason," I said looking at Olaf again. "I just wanted to escape for a few moments. I haven't exactly had much time to rest from all this chaos for a long time.

Olaf's eyes shone brightly. "You're a sneaky little liar," he said, "but I know you're really hiding something. I suppose having you in my clutches for so long has taught me how to tell when you're lying."

"It took you long enough," I muttered, bitterly.

"Did something happen with you and the Baudelaires?" Olaf said, his eyes shining.

"No," I said, nervously. "Nothing happened. We're friends again."

"I was right, wasn't I?" Olaf went on, ignoring me. "Even if you want to be friends again, you can never truly go back to how it was before. Your friendship has been broken. You and bookworm will never be able to be at peace with each other." He laughed wickedly. "And I must say I do take pleasure in being the reason why you two aren't living happily ever after together."

I frowned. "Maybe you're wrong," I said, not liking the sound of Olaf saying our friendship was irreparable. Although it sounded a lot like what I've been telling myself over the past few days—I suppose hearing it from another person, particularly Olaf, made the idea scarier to me. It only further reminded me of when he had declared he would take everything from me. I sighed. "Time heals all wounds."

"Oh, really?" Olaf said, "So I assume you're not still upset about the death of your dear parents or poor Jacques Snicket."

"Stop," I said, flinching and taking a step away from him. "That's different. O-our friendship c-can be fixed." Although, I was trying to remain firm, I couldn't stop my voice from shaking with fear—fear that he was right and then I might do something I'll regret like join Olaf again—that thought scared me more than anything.

"Well, I think I have something that could solve both of our problems," Olaf said with a wink. "Soon I will unleash a certain deadly fungus on all the islanders," Olaf crowed. "Then, they'll realize who's boss and I'll be their king. But by then it will be too late. So I'm going to give them a choice. Either they should bow down to me, or I'll kill them all."

I gasped. "No way," I said. "You're not unleashing that poison on anyone."

"Oh, and who's going to stop me?" Olaf said. "I've already planned it out."

"It seems odd that you would waste something so powerful on these islanders," I said, trying to reason with him. "Power comes from people. If they all die, you'll never be king and you'll never get either of our fortunes. In fact, you'll probably die too."

"That won't stop me," Olaf said, "You see, that's where you come in. I assume you know the antidote since the baby brat is still breathing and you're going to tell me what it is."

"I'm not going to help you," I said, "I'm done with your games." I turned around and started to hurry away. Olaf grabbed my arm as I was leaving and pulled me roughly back.

"Ouch," I muttered.

"This isn't a game, little girl," Olaf growled. "And I can tell you why you're going to help me."

"Why is that?" I said, nervously. I didn't want to get twisted into doing something I'd regret again.

"I was just messing with you," Olaf said, "Did you really think I would kill off my royal subjects before I became their king? Though that's what will become of this little island if you refuse to help me. You're right about one thing, Jamie, you do still have a bond with the little Baudebrats. It seems there's nothing you wouldn't do for them—you'll go willingly into my clutches, endure all sorts of misery, and best of all, you'd kill for them, so I know you wouldn't like it if they perished from the Medusoid Mycellium."

I swallowed. I hated the way he twisted everything to make me feel worse about myself.

"So it's true," Olaf said, "See, if you were smart like me, you wouldn't have loyalties. Loyalty is a weakness. Friendship is a weakness. Love is a weakness. Look at what happened to you."

"It's not like your situation is any better," I said, trying to sound confident, but I couldn't help wonder if he was right. Maybe I was too weak. "You have no friends and you've been abandoned on a coastal shelf."

"It's no different than your life before I came along, eh?" Olaf said with an ironical laugh. "But I'm not going to let that stop me from getting what I want. And you're going to help me."

"What do you want?" I asked, reluctantly.

"You can stay on the island for now," Olaf said, "I don't want anyone getting suspicious, which is why you're not going to tell anybody about our little plan. But make sure to sneak meals to me whenever they give them to you—even if it's your meal. I'll be very busy scheming and I need all the energy I can get. Consider it a test. If you don't succeed, I'll send all of them to their doom. You included. Oh, and what's the antidote?" Olaf asked with a wicked grin.

"I won't tell you," I said, knowing he was less likely to release it if he couldn't be sure he would survive.

He grabbed my face roughly in his hands. "Tell me this instant," he growled.

"No," I said firmly, reaching to try and pull his hands off my face. "I'll never tell you."

His face pinched with fury and his hands grabbed for my throat, wrapping tightly around my windpipe so I couldn't breathe. I grabbed at his hands, clawing at them, trying to pry them off my throat as I ran out of air.

"Jane!" A voice called and I recognized it as Violet's.

Count Olaf released his hold on my throat and I fell to the ground, breathing heavily and coughing as I tried to catch my breath.

"You're lucky," Count Olaf said, sneering at me. "I'll see you at breakfast. Don't forget!"

Olaf waved and sulked away, deeper into the coastal shelf.

"Jane!" Violet called again. I turned around to see her hurrying down the slope, obviously alarmed. She relaxed when she saw me. "Oh, thank goodness. You scared me, Jane. What on earth are you standing there for?"

I shrugged. "I was just…thinking," I said, trying to hide the dread in my voice. It felt like I was running in circles—it seemed that everytime I tried to be good, Count Olaf kept coming back, and manipulating me into helping him. I couldn't let a repeat of last time happen. I couldn't go back to that. I was so afraid. What could I do? Olaf was yet again threatening my friends' lives and yet again I was caught in between it all.

"What happened with you and Klaus?" Violet asked, her eyes brightening. "Did you tell him?"

"He didn't tell you?" I asked.

"No," Violet said, "I haven't seen him yet. I suppose he went back to the tent already."

"Oh…" I said.

"You told him right?" Violet asked.

I was about to blurt out the truth, but Violet looked happier than I'd seen her in a while. We'd been through enough misery and I didn't want to burden her with another load of it. I put on my best fake smile. "Yeah sort of," I said, "but we decided we didn't want to rush into things. We were best friends once and I think we'd both like to return to that." I didn't have to lie about that part—I longed for the day when we could be best friends again the way we were—I missed it terribly. In fact, I had to bite my lip to stop from crying because I could remember how it felt to be his best friend.

"Oh," Violet said. "Well, that's still great. You two were always great friends."

"We were," I agreed, with a sigh.

"Let's head back to the tent, then," Violet said, "We're all exhausted and I'm sure you are too."

I nodded and followed Violet up the slope and to our tent. Sunny was already bundled up in a blanket and opened one of her eyes when we entered. Klaus was sitting near Sunny, writing in his commonplace book when we entered and I hesitated by the entrance. Klaus looked up and when he saw me, he looked surprised.

"Have you discovered any useful information?" Violet asked, sitting down beside him.

"Not really," Klaus said, closing his commonplace book. "I was just taking more notes on the island's customs." He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and I wondered what he was thinking. I looked away.

We all went to sleep then, though I was far too restless and I ended up lying with my eyes closed. I could tell Klaus was pretending to be sleep too because all night, I heard the scratching of his pencil in his notebook. It didn't seem like he was taking notes at all.

By the time it was morning, I was so tired that I could barely see straight. Not even fatigue made me forget about retrieving Olaf's meals. I tried to convince myself that it wasn't that bad since it wasn't exactly helping him with his plans, yet I still felt guilty, as if I were betraying the islanders and the Baudelaires. But I couldn't let Olaf hurt my friends.

So at breakfast, I managed to sneak away with a bowl of seaweed salad and again at lunch with a bowl of ceviche and then, onion soup at dinnertime. Count Olaf didn't ask about the antidote again and mostly just grabbed the bowl, patted my head, made some snide comment about me or the Baudelaires, and then left, his wicked laughter echoing in my head long after he disappeared. The nights preceded in much the same way too. Klaus avoided me mostly and stayed up all night writing again while I tossed and turned. It seemed that as each day passed, my guilt about helping Olaf, and the pain at losing Klaus as my friend seemed to increase. Until one night, the night of the storm, I just couldn't take it any longer:

"Klaus?" I whispered to him in the dark as thunder echoed from outside the tent. I tried to pretend that I had been asleep.

He paused and looked over at me in confusion. "You're awake?"

"I couldn't sleep," I said, sitting up slowly. "I suppose you couldn't either."

"No, I couldn't," Klaus said, closing his commonplace book and putting it back in his pocket.

"If you don't stop writing in there," I said, jokingly—hoping he would tell me what he was writing, "you'll get carpal tunnel or something."

Klaus gave me a small smile, but he didn't laugh.

"What were you writing in there anyways?" I asked.

"You didn't tell Violet what happened between us, did you?" Klaus said, suddenly.

"I suppose I didn't want to crush her happiness too," I whispered, looking down at my hands. "I know I hurt you Klaus. I'm sorry. But when I was telling Violet about us, I said how we were taking things slow and just repairing our friendship first. Maybe that's really what we need. I just…I miss my best friend. Can't we just be best friends again?"

Klaus hesitated and after a moment, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jane," he said, "but it hurts too much. I'm still your friend, Jane. Just not the way we were before."

"There's something I have to tell you," I blurted.

Klaus looked at me curiously. "What is it?"

"It's Olaf," I whispered.

Klaus's eyes widened, in alarm. "What do you mean?" he asked, in fear.

"The night we um…well you know…" I said, "I stayed out there after you left and well…Olaf appeared. He said that he was planning to take over the island and become king. He said he was going to use the Medusoid Mycellium to do it. But then he said that it was only a back up plan…if I refused to help him with his current plan. He warned me that if the spores were released that you three would be in danger, of course, and I was so worried about you that I agreed."

"Jane," Klaus said in horror. "What did he want?"

"He wants to know the antidote for the Medusoid Mycellium," I said.

Klaus's eyes widened further. "Did you tell him?" he asked.

"No," I said, shaking my head firmly. "I'd never tell him and that's exactly what I told him—and then he started choking me. But I still wouldn't tell him. I knew if I didn't that he'd be less likely to unleash it. The other part of the deal was for me to steal him meals. I didn't feel good about it, but I was afraid of what he'd do if I didn't. I'm scared Klaus. He's planning something and knowing him, it's probably going to be very bad."

"But you're helping him again, Jane," Klaus said, shaking his head. "You know it's wrong."

"I know that," I said, "trust me, the last thing I wanted was a repeat of last time. He threatened us —I got scared. I mean…you read my notebook. You remember how awful it was when he locked me in that room for sneaking into his tower room—you remember what he said."

"You'll have nothing," Klaus said, with a sigh. "He said he'd make you suffer until you begged him to…" Klaus trailed off and we both shuddered.

"I'm not afraid about the second part," I said, "I don't want him to be right about the first. He murdered Jacques Snicket while I was watching…I…I can't have you three dying…I'd go insane if I lost either one of you for good—I was a mess on Mount Fraught before you appeared. I can't lose more people that I care about. I mean, what if Olaf threatened Violet and Sunny…or I suppose me? Wouldn't you do the same thing?"

Klaus looked at me and I knew he understood what I was saying. He nodded. "I'd do it if he threatened Violet, Sunny, or you," he said. "I don't want to lose you again, Jane. I hate it when you're not with us."

"So, you'll help me?" I asked.

"What can we do?" Klaus asked. "Do you know what his current plan is?"

"Not really," I said, "He won't say much. Though I know he was looking through the debris in the coastal shelf waters for something."

"The storm…" Klaus said suddenly and as he spoke, thunder echoed in the sky outside our tent. "If he's still out there and without shelter, the storm might delay him. Maybe we'll have time to plan something by then."

"What should I do now?" I asked. "Should I keep bringing him meals?"

Klaus sighed. "For now," he said. "If you stop, he might think you told someone. It will give us time to plan without him interfering…" Klaus looked worried all of the sudden.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Klaus looked down. "I'm worried something will happen again," Klaus said, "and Olaf will take you away from us again."

I would have told him not to worry, but I remember saying those exact words to him when we were staying with the Squalors. I ended up being tricked, and thrown down an elevator shaft by Esmé and Gunther. "I'm afraid too," I said.

"Something came for me a while ago," Klaus said. "I was wondering if you received the same message." Klaus reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope made of thick, yellow parchment. Green ink addressed the letter:

_Klaus Baudelaire_

_ The Concierge Desk _

_ Hotel Denouement_

_ U.S.A._

I knew immediately that he had received one of the Hogwarts letters. I wasn't sure whether to be excited for him or deeply saddened.

"This is the same letter you received," Klaus said, "I recognize it from the ones that came to you on Mount Fraught. I didn't want to open it until I showed it to you."

"Good," I said. "Don't open it."

"Why not?" Klaus asked. "Did you?"

I nodded, looking down at my hands. "It'll just hurt more," I said. "You'd better get rid of it."

"What is it, Jane?" he asked. "Who sent it?"

I shook my head. "You don't want to know, trust me."

"Please," Klaus said, "I just want to know."

I sighed. "Fine," I said, "it's a letter from a school…for magic."

Klaus's eyes widened. "M-magic?" he asked.

"It seems those Matilda powers are more than just a coincidence," I said, "I'm a witch. You're a wizard. It says so in the letter."

Klaus opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, reading it once, then twice…He read it over for what seemed like ages before he looked up in shock.

"This can't be real," he said. "How…?"

"I have no clue," I said, "I thought it was some sort of prank or odd joke. But what else could explain our strange powers? And Olaf and Esmé were acting so odd about it. I think they know about magic."

"You don't think they have powers, do you?" Klaus asked, a little nervously.

"I don't think so," I said, "Olaf probably would have boasted about it by now. There's never been any indication of him using magic. Madame Lulu might have told him and he told Esmé or something. Unless they didn't know about magic until they read the letter…"

"So we have to go to this school?" Klaus asked.

"We should be," I said, "but I have no clue where this Hogwarts school is, how to get there, and even if we could get there. Who knows how long we'll be stuck on this island?"

Klaus nodded. "I still can't believe it," he said. "I believed it when we discovered the Matilda powers, but I never thought…"

"I suppose there are things we'll never know about the world," I said. "Things we're yet to learn—things we'll never get to learn if Olaf prevails. Oh, why can't all of this just end? I'm so tired of running. I want a home, Klaus. Somewhere permanent—somewhere without Olaf constantly trying to kidnap and kill us."

Klaus nodded. I wasn't expecting an answer. I knew there wasn't much either of us could say or do to change anything.

"This is why I didn't want you to read it," I said, sadly. "I didn't want you to get your hopes up, only to wake up and look at our reality. I had to do that when I read it and it hurts that we have this opportunity dangling in front of our eyes, but we're stuck on this stupid island thanks to all the madness from the past months. It's like our fortunes. Apparently, we have all of this money, yet right now we don't have _any_ money or protection. At this rate, who knows if anyone will get a penny of those fortunes?"

"I know," Klaus said, in agreement. "I thought about us fighting more often and I just know we're this way because of all these things that happen to us—things we can't control."

"La Forza del Destino," I muttered, bitterly. "Even Olaf knows that we're not getting along because of him. He told me it amused him. When he said that, it made me realize that…we have to start trusting each other again. We have to be more honest with each other and stick together. That was probably Olaf's plan from the beginning when he made me go into his clutches—he was trying to tear us apart. I know you're mad at me, but I don't want that to mean things between us won't get better."

"Maybe it's better for us not to be so close," Klaus said, looking away. As he looked away, his gaze fell to his notebook. He shook his head briefly and then looked up at me again. "I'm sorry," he said, "but it hurts too much to be so close to you when I care about you so much." Klaus sighed. "There were so many times when we were apart when I would think about telling you how I felt. I always thought it would be the greatest day of my life. I suppose I never pictured this—having you say no. There was never a time for me when I didn't feel this way about you."

I looked into his eyes—those brown eyes that I loved so much. I felt safe when I looked into them. But I also felt afraid. Afraid of letting go, afraid feeling this way about him would only hurt me…

"Everyone I've ever cared about has failed me or died," I said. "Part of the reason I joined Olaf was because of Esmé. She was my aunt, after all. I know she was a terrible person, but at Caligari Carnival there were times when I would see a different side of her. She didn't seem so bad. I told you she rescued me from almost falling into the lion pit. When we went to stay in the Mortmain Mountains, Esmé ignored me and was her same old self. Then, Carmelita came around and Esmé started fussing over her all the time. It was strange because…I was jealous of Carmelita sometimes. I also hated her because she already took so much away from me and then she was stealing my aunt—my _only_ living relative. So when I was upset over you, everything pointed in the direction of joining Olaf. I thought if I got closer to her, we might bond somehow. I thought maybe if she got to know me…she might change. She did sort of begin to change. She did cover for me about the not shooting the crow and stuff. So maybe she did care a little. But then she just turned her back on me altogether." I found myself crying at this point. Klaus put an arm around my shoulder, but he was holding back a bit. "It hurt so much, Klaus. It was just a reminder of all the other times people abandoned me—my parents, you, Esmé…I'm scared because…I do really like you Klaus—God, I've been holding that in for so long now…I just don't want to get hurt again. I mean, what if the Quagmires and Fiona show up tomorrow? Is everything between us going to vanish? Will it exist then? Or will it be about Fiona? If she came back, which one of us would you choose, me or her?"

"You, Jane," Klaus said, "How many times do I have to tell you before you realize? I like _you_. When Fiona kissed me…when she did…it made me feel worse. Because at the time I thought we were finished. I was disappointed and upset because I thought that would never happen for us."

"It always means something when you kiss someone," I pointed out, bitterly.

Klaus nodded. "It _did_ mean something with Fiona," Klaus said, "but not the way you think. When we kissed, all I could think about was you. It made me realize that I didn't like Fiona in that way at all. I'm sorry that I just threw away my first kiss like that, but at that point, I didn't think we would ever be _us_ again. And when I read your notebook, it made me so angry to think of what the bald man and the man with a beard but no hair did to you—even if they didn't get away with it. You don't deserve to be treated that way. I wish I could have been the one who Esmé caught at Heimlich Hospital. At least then, you wouldn't have gotten hurt. See, I've always known that it was my fault that these terrible things kept happening to you. I couldn't save you, Jane. I couldn't save you from all of that. So maybe I don't deserve to be with you."

"You did save me," I said, "You gave me comfort, friendship, and a family, which is far more than I ever could have hoped for. None of that other stuff matters."

Klaus and I locked gazes, and I felt those fluttering feelings in my stomach returning. But I knew it was a lost cause.

"I suppose there's no use going through this," I said after a moment, returning back to reality. "We've both made our terms clear. Dwelling on the past will only make us feel worse."

Klaus nodded. "It brings me hope," Klaus said, looking at me intensely. "I think we lost sight of ourselves through all of this chaos." Klaus reached out to place a hand on my shoulder. "I know that there's still a part of you that shares my feelings. I don't know how long it will be until you realize that. But if time is what you need to figure it out, then that's fine. Sooner or later you have to make up your mind. I hate the thought of wasting another day without you—it seems you always slip away from me whenever I turn my back for even a second."

"If I don't make up my mind," I said, "if I'm stuck this way for a long time…what will you do?"

"I don't know," Klaus said, dropping his hand from my shoulder. "I'm hoping there's still time for me to define my future, but I can't wait forever, Jane."

I looked down at my hands, but I didn't speak.

"We should get some sleep," Klaus said, "I think I'm done writing for the night."

So we went back to sleep, and this time I slept a little better.

* * *

I woke up early in the morning to deliver breakfast to Olaf, without being seen by the islanders wandering around the coastal shelf. However, when I arrived at the beach's shore, Olaf was nowhere in sight. There was plenty of detritus littered around the coastal shelf from the previous night's storm, but no sign of the villain. Perhaps he didn't survive, or was passed out somewhere like last time. I waited for several minutes, before deciding he perhaps he wasn't coming. I returned to the tent and although, Olaf had said not to, I confessed to Violet and Sunny about Olaf showing up. After everything we've been through, I knew lying to the Baudelaires would only have worse results when they found out the truth. Violet and Sunny were concerned, of course. All three of them were just as surprised that Olaf hadn't shown up for breakfast this morning.

We met up with Friday and the rest of the islanders to walk along the coastal shelf, looking for any interesting items. I decided I would look for any sign of Olaf while we were looking around the coastal shelf for items. Though I hoped he would stay far away from us.

"Janiceps," Sunny said meaning, "I'm of two minds about living here."

"I know what you mean," Klaus said, who was carrying Sunny on his shoulders. "Ishmael keeps saying he won't force us to do anything, but everything feels a bit forced anyway."

"At least they forced Olaf away," Violet pointed out, "which is more than V.F.D. ever accomplished."

"It seems that he's going to find his way back in some way or another," I said. "I suppose that's why V.F.D. could never get rid of him."

"Diaspora," Sunny said, meaning, "We live in such a distant place that the battle between V.F.D. and their enemies seems very far away."

"The only V.F.D. around here," Klaus said, leaning down to peer into a pool of water, "is our Very Flavorless Diet."

Violet smiled. "Not so long ago," she said, "we were desperate to reach the last safe place by Thursday. Now, everywhere we look is safe, and we have no idea what day it is."

"I still miss home," Sunny said.

"Me too," Klaus said. "For some reason I keep missing the library at Lucky Smells Lumbermill."

"Charles's library?" Violet asked, with an amazed smile. "It was a

beautiful room, but it only had three books. Why on earth do you miss that place?"

"Are you forgetting that's the place you were hypnotized?" I said with a shudder. "I never want to go back to that place for as long as I live."

"Three books are better than none," Klaus said. "The only thing I've read since we arrived here is my own commonplace book. I suggested to Ishmael that he could dictate a history of the colony to me, and that I'd write it down so the islanders would know about how this place came to be. Other colonists could write down their own stories, and eventually this island would have its own library. But Ishmael said that he wouldn't force me, but he didn't think it would be a good idea to write a book that would upset people with its descriptions of storms and castaways. I don't want to rock the boat, but I miss my research."

"Is that what you've been writing about?" I asked.

Klaus shrugged. "I suppose I've just been writing about the colony as we've experienced it," he said. "It's nothing important. But it's better than nothing."

"You could still write the history," I said, "and Ishmael doesn't have to know. Just interview the islanders about their experiences."

"I don't want to rock the boat, though," Klaus said, "I don't want to have to lie about that, too."

I nodded in agreement, knowing he was right.

"I know what you mean," Violet said. "I keep missing Madame Lulu's fortune-telling tent."

"With all those phony magic tricks?" Klaus said.

"That's another place I hope to never see again," I said with a shudder. "I never want to be reminded of what I nearly did. I still have nightmares about the bald man being torn to shreds by those lions."

Violet put a hand on my shoulder to comfort me. "Her inventions were pretty ridiculous," Violet admitted, "but if I had those simple mechanical materials, I think I could make a simple water filtration system. If we could manufacture fresh water, the islanders wouldn't have to drink coconut cordial all day long. But Friday said that the drinking of the cordial was inveterate."

"Nospine?" Sunny asked.

"She meant people had been drinking it for so long that they wouldn't

want to stop," Violet said. "I don't want to rock the boat, but I miss

working on inventions. What about you, Jane?"

"I miss the New York Boarding School," I said, glancing at Klaus briefly.

"Gobul?" Sunny asked, in confusion. "The place with all those mean girls and Olaf's evil plot to kidnap you?"

I nodded. "I wasn't always happy during that time," I said, "but at least I still had you three. I mean, when Olaf threatened me, and I came to terms with the fact that I'd never see you again, it made me realize how much you all mean to me. I didn't like being in the play so much because it was Olaf's play and part of his scheme. But I did like being in the Company Show too, of course. But…the first few days before Olaf appeared, well that was the happiest I think I've ever been. Besides, that was a time when I was simply Jane Rumary. It was I lost Jacques or Esmé or even knew about them. It was before I lost my way, too, by nearly pushing Madame Lulu in the pit." I neglected to mention that it was before the bald man and the man with a beard but no hair attacked me.

"That's very sweet of you," Violet said, "You know we care about you too, Jane. That's another thing I'm glad about—that we're together. What about you, Sunny? What do you miss?"

"Fountain," Sunny said.

"The Fowl Fountain, at the Village of Fowl Devotees?" Klaus asked.

"No," Sunny said, shaking her head. "In city."

I looked at the Sunny in confusion.

"The Fountain of Victorious Finance?" Violet asked. "Why on earth would you miss that?"

"First swim," Sunny said, and her siblings gasped.

"You can't remember that," Klaus said. "You were just a few weeks old,"

Violet said.

"I remember," Sunny said firmly, the Bauadelaires shook their heads in wonder.

"What is she talking about?" I asked.

Violet explained that on an afternoon long ago, during an abnormally hot autumn in the city, the Baudelaire parents had some business to attend to, and brought the Violet, Klaus, and Sunny along with them, promising to stop at the ice cream store on the way home. The Baudelaires' mother had hurried into a building in the finance district, while their father waited outside with the children by the fountain. The hot weather made Sunny very cranky, and she began to fuss. To quiet her, the Baudelaires' father dipped her bare feet in the water, and Sunny had smiled so enthusiastically that he had begun to dunk Sunny's body, clothes and all, into the fountain, until ahe was screaming with laughter. Violet and Klaus also jumped into the fountain, as well as the Baudelaires' father, too, all of them laughing. Soon the Baudelaires' mother came out of the building, and joined them. They laughed all the way home, each footstep a wet squish, and sat out on their front steps to dry in the sun.

"It's hard to believe," Violet said, "that our parents could laugh like that, when they were already involved with V.F.D. and all its troubles."

"The schism must have seemed a world away that day," Klaus said.

"And now," Sunny said. We all nodded.

"Maybe it's for the better," I said, "Maybe staying here on this peaceful island is a sign that we need some change in our lives. I think we need a break from all of that chaos out there. I don't like the person I turned into because of it. Perhaps, we can take advantage of this time of peace to rediscover ourselves."

"That's true," Violet said. "We can try to become the people we hope to be."

Sunny and Klaus nodded in agreement.

We continued walking, squinting into the bright sun. Then, Sunny pointed out at the horizon, in which an object rested on the edge of the shelf. It was a large, square, and ragged object, and we hurried closer.

The object looked like a library because it consisted of stacks and stacks of books, piled neatly into a giant cube. Thick straps made of rubber were wrapped around the cube, holding it together.

"It looks like you've gotten what you wished for," I pointed out. The rubber straps made the object look like an invention and water poured out of it like a fountain. However, a barefoot hung over the side as if someone were lying on top of it. There was a tattoo of an eye on the person's ankle.

I frowned in confusion. The ankle certainly was a lot cleaner and slimmer than Olaf's.

"Olaf?" Sunny asked, but Violet, Klaus, and I shook our heads.

"I don't think he would spend his time looking for books to make a raft of some sort," I said.

"Climb onto my back," Violet said to Klaus. "Maybe we can hoist

Sunny to the top."

"I'll spot you," I said, remembering the last time we formed a human ladder, when Sunny nearly fell.

Klaus nodded, climbed carefully onto Violet's back, and then, very

slowly, stood on Violet's shoulders. I prepared myself to catch anyone in case they fell. Hoping, my size wouldn't hinder me. The Baudelaires stood in a

trembling tower, and Sunny reached out her little hands and pulled

herself up,

"Kit Snicket," Sunny called down to us, her voice hushed with

amazement.

"Yes?" replied a voice that was high-pitched, grating, and unpleasant from behind the cube of books. A figure stepped out to greet us, I was the first to see the person, who wore a dress that was streaked and soaked. It was red, orange, and yellow, and the colors seemed to melt together as the person came closer. It was a floor-length dress that covered the person's ankles. A pile of seaweed had been used to resemble long hair and the person's belly was full and round, however, it looked phony. Also, the person was clearly male because his face's features all resembled a man's. I knew, of course, that it was very abnormal for a man to be pregnant.

As the person got closer and glared at the four of us, I worried the Baudelaires might loose balance at the sight of this _very familiar_ person. I knew immediately, that this man was none other than Count Olaf back again with another disguise. I felt a weird sense of déjà vu—it had been a long time since he last disguised as someone, but I knew that his latest scheme would only bring us more treachery.

I looked from the Baudelaires to Olaf, wondering if we would ever be able to escape from his treachery for good. And as I thought about the islanders, I knew Olaf's presence would only disrupt their lifestyle and result in more chaos. I suppose I should have seen it coming, but I guess this peaceful life made me forget for a few days how horrible this villain could be.

"Well, well," I said, bitterly, "look what the storm dragged in."

* * *

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	19. Abandoned

**New chapter! ENJOY!**

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**Chapter Six: Abandoned**

I had a queasy feeling in my stomach as the islanders approached us, holding the various items they discovered while storm scavenging. I feared that once again, Olaf would fool everyone with his disguise, and we would once again be in terrible danger. The disguise did not even cover his tattooed ankle since the islanders would not be familiar with the mark.

"That's Olaf!" Friday cried, pointing an accusatory finger at the villain. "Why is he dressed as a pregnant woman?"

"I'm dressed as a pregnant woman because I am a pregnant woman," Count Olaf replied, in his high-pitched, disguised voice. "My name is Kit Snicket, and I've been looking everywhere for these children."

"You're not Kit Snicket!" Mrs. Caliban cried.

"He just admitted that he's dressed as a pregnant woman," I pointed out. "And that belly looks fake."

"Kit Snicket is up on this pile of books," Violet said indignantly, helping Sunny down from the top of the cube. "She's a friend of ours, and she may be hurt, or ill. But this is Count Olaf, who is no friend of ours."

"He's no friend of ours, either," Friday said. There was a murmur of agreement from the islanders. "Just because you've put something inside your dress to look pregnant, and thrown a clump of seaweed on your hair to make a wig, doesn't mean you won't be recognized." She faced us and I noticed she had a strange bump under her robe as if she was hiding something too. "I hope he hasn't been bothering you. I told him specifically to go away."

Count Olaf glared at Friday, but then turned to try his treachery on the

other islanders. "You primitive people won't tell a pregnant woman to go away, will you?" he asked. "I'm in a very delicate condition."

"They're not _primitive_," I spat in defense. "At least they're not stupid enough to use _seaweed_ as a wig." Olaf glared at me and I knew if no one was around, he'd probably strangle me again.

"You're not in a very delicate condition," said Larsen firmly. "You're in a very transparent disguise. If Friday says you're this Olaf person, then I'm sure you are, and you're not welcome here, due to your unkindness."

"I've never been unkind in my life," Olaf said, running a bony hand through his seaweed. "I'm nothing but a fairly innocent maiden with my belly full of baby. It is the Baudelaires and Jamie who have been unkind, along with this impostor sleeping on top of this damp library."

"Library?" Fletcher said with a gasp. "We've never had a library on the island."

"Ishmael said that a library was bound to lead to trouble," said Brewster, "so we were lucky that a book has never ended up on our shores."

"You see?" Olaf said, his orange and yellow dress rustling in the morning breeze. "That treacherous woman up there has dragged these books to your colony, just to be unkind to you poor primitive people. And the Baudelaires and Jamie are friends with her! They're the ones you should abandon here, and I should be welcomed to Olaf-Land and given gifts."

"This island is not called Olaf-Land!" cried Friday. "And you're the one we abandoned!"

"This is confusing!" cried Omeros. "We need a facilitator to sort this out!"

"Omeros is right," said Calypso. "We shouldn't decide anything until we've talked to Ishmael. Come on, let's take all this detritus to Ishmael's tent."

The islanders nodded in agreement. A few of them stepped forward to the cube of books and tried to push it along the shelf. It was difficult and the cube shook as it was dragged along the bumpy surface. Kit's foot bobbed violently up and down and I worried that she would fall.

"Stop," Klaus said. "It's not safe to move someone who may be seriously injured, particularly if she's pregnant."

"Klaus is right," said Dr. Kurtz. "I remember that from my days in veterinary school."

"If Muhammad will not come to the mountain," Rabbi Bligh said, using an expression that the islanders understood at once, "the mountain will come to Muhammad."

"But how can Ishmael come here?" asked Erewhon. "He couldn't walk all this way with his injured feet."

"The sheep can drag him here," said Sherman. "We can put his chair on the sleigh. Friday, you guard Olaf and the Baudelaires, while the rest of us will go fetch our facilitator."

"And some more coconut cordial," said Madame Nordoff. "I'm thirsty and my seashell is almost empty."

The islanders murmured in agreement and they started back towards the island with the items they had discovered, leaving us alone with Friday and Count Olaf. Friday drank some of her coconut cordial and smiled at us.

"Don't worry, Baudelaires," she said, holding one hand over the bulge in her robe. "We'll sort this out. I promise you that this terrible man will be abandoned once and for all."

"I'm not a man," Olaf insisted in his disguised voice. "I'm a lady with a baby inside her."

"Pellucid theatrics," Sunny said.

"My sister's right," Violet said. "Your disguise isn't working."

"Just give it up," I said, "You're not fooling anyone."

"Oh, I don't think you'd want me to stop pretending," the villain said. He still spoke in an unusual high-pitched voice, yet his eyes were shining brightly from behind his seaweed bangs.

"You of all people should know that Jamie," Olaf said as he reached behind him, pulling out the harpoon gun. "If I were to say that I was Count Olaf, instead of Kit Snicket, I might begin behaving like a villain, rather than a noble person."

"You've never behaved like a noble person," Klaus said, "no matter what name you've been using. And that weapon doesn't scare us. You only have one harpoon, and this island is full of people who know how wicked and unkind you are. You're not going to hurt Jane again either. You wouldn't dare release the Medusoid Mycellium without knowing the antidote."

I frowned with worry because I was afraid of how Olaf would react.

"Klaus is right," Friday said. "You might as well put your weapon down. It's useless in a place like this."

Count Olaf glanced at Friday and then, at the four of us, and opened his mouth as if he was going to say something treacherous. However, he closed his mouth, glaring down at the water.

"I'm tired of wandering around here," he muttered. "There's nothing to eat but seaweed and raw fish, and everything valuable has been taken by all those fools in robes."

"If you didn't behave so horridly," Friday said, "you could live on the island."

I glanced at the Baudelaires. I knew it was a bit cruel to abandon Olaf on the shelf, but I still didn't like the idea of him being welcomed on the island.

Friday, of course, did not understand how treacherous Olaf could be because she had not endured his cruelty as much as we have. She did not know the whole story. If we told her the whole story of our miserable lives, Friday would not like the thought of our own treachery and cruelty.

Count Olaf looked at Friday, looking as if he was contemplating something.

Then he grinned slyly and turned to face the Baudelaires and I, holding out the harpoon gun. "I suppose you're right," he said. "The harpoon gun is useless in a

place like this." He continued to speak in his phony voice while his hand caressed his fake pregnant belly. I looked oddly from Olaf to the weapon. I did not like the idea of touching that gun ever again for as long as I lived. The Baudelaires seemed just as reluctant to touching the gun too.

"No thanks," I said, "I'm never touching that gun again."

"We don't want that," Violet said in agreement.

"Obviously this is some trick of yours," Klaus said.

"It's no trick," Olaf said in his high-pitched voice. "I'm giving up my villainous ways, and I want to live with you on the island. I'm sorry to hear that you don't believe me."

His face grew very serious. It reminded me of the time he persuaded me to join his troupe—he wore that same serious yet pitiful face. I had to look away from those shiny eyes and that same look—I couldn't allow myself to be guilt-tripped again.

"Fibber," Sunny said.

"You insult me, madam," Olaf said. "I'm as honest as the day is long."

"What about the Medusoid Mycellium?" I asked. "You can't have that either if you want to live on the island, not that you would be allowed on anyways."

"I threw that away," Count Olaf said. "I don't really mean any harm to you islanders. I'm going to put my treachery behind me to start anew. After all, everyone deserves a second chance, right little Jamie?"

I glowered at him, still unconvinced. Friday frowned at the villain sternly.

"The Baudelaires and Jamie told me you were not to be trusted," she said, "and I can see that they spoke the truth. You'll stay right here, Olaf, until the others arrive and we decide what to do with you."

"I'm not Count Olaf," Count Olaf said, "but in the meantime, could I have a sip of this coconut cordial I heard mentioned?"

"No," Friday said, and turned so her back faced the villain. She gazed with curiously at the cube of books. "I've never seen a book before," she confessed to the Baudelaires and I. "I hope Ishmael thinks it's O.K. to keep them here."

"You've never seen a book?" Violet said in amazement. "Do you know how to read?"

Friday took a quick look around the coastal shelf, and then nodded her head quickly. "Yes," she said. "Ishmael didn't think it was a good idea to teach us, but Professor Fletcher disagreed, and held secret classes on the coastal shelf for those of us who were born on the island. From time to time, I keep in practice by sketching the alphabet in the sand with a stick, but without a library there's not much I can do. I hope Ishmael won't suggest that we let the sheep drag all these books to the arboretum."

"Even if he does, you won't have to throw them away," Klaus reminded her. "He won't force you."

"I know," Friday said with a sigh. "But when Ishmael suggests something, everybody agrees, and it's hard not to succumb to that kind of peer pressure."

"I know what you mean," I said, knowing full too well, after the years spent with Carmelita as my roommate and tormentor, the effects of peer pressure. "At my boarding school, these girls—particularly a girl named Carmelita Spats—used to pressure me into doing all sorts of things. It was awful."

Friday nodded in agreement.

"Whisk," Sunny reminded Friday, and removed the whisk from her pocket.

Friday smiled at her, but quickly put the item back away in Sunny's pocket. "I gave you that whisk because you said you were interested in cooking," she said. "It seemed a shame to deny your interests just because Ishmael might not think a kitchen implement was appropriate. You'll keep my secret, won't you?"

"Of course," Violet said, "but it's also a shame to deny your interest in reading."

"Maybe Ishmael won't object," Friday said.

"Maybe," Klaus said, "or maybe we could try a little peer pressure of our own."

"I don't want to rock the boat," Friday said with a frown. "Ever since my father's death, my mother has wanted me to be safe, which is why we left the world far behind and decided to stay here on the island. But the older I get, it seems the more secrets I have. Professor Fletcher taught me secretly to read. Omeros taught me secretly to skip rocks, even though Ishmael says it's dangerous. I secretly gave Sunny a whisk." She reached into her robe, and smiled. "And now I have another secret, just for me. Look what I found curled up in a broken wooden crate."

Count Olaf had been glaring silently at us, but when Friday showed us her secret, he shrieked, his voice even more high-pitched than his disguised voice. The Baudelaires and I didn't shriek at all, though. Even though the thing was certainly frightening-looking with its skin as dark as the night sky and it was as thick as a small tunnel. It uncurled itself and hastily darted toward the four of us. I let out a cry of marvel and joy as I recognized the majestic creature.

"Incredi!" Sunny cried. The enormous snake wrapped itself around the Baudelaires and I.

"Aw," I said in adoration. Seeing the Incredibly Deadly Viper reminded me of poor Uncle Monty, but this time I wasn't sad when I thought of him—instead I thought of how afraid I was of the snakes before he showed me how to care for them.

"It's the Incredibly Deadly Viper!" Klaus said in amazement. "How in the world did it end up here?"

"Ishmael said that everything eventually washes up on the shores of this island," Violet said, "but I never thought I'd see this reptile again."

"Deadly?" Friday asked nervously. "Is it poisonous? It seemed friendly to

me."

"Oh, don't worry," I reassured her. "It's not really deadly. In fact, it's one of the least deadly and most friendly creatures in the animal kingdom. The name, the Incredibly Deadly Viper is a misnomer."

"How can you be sure?" Friday asked.

"We knew the man who discovered it," Violet said. "His name was Dr.

Montgomery Montgomery, and he was a brilliant herpetologist."

"He was a wonderful man," Klaus said. "We miss him very much."

I nodded in agreement. The Baudelaires and I hugged the snake, particularly, Sunny. I thought about all the happy times with Uncle Monty and then I remembered who had taken that away from us. The Baudelaires and I looked at Count Olaf, who frowned as he looked back at us. It was odd being around him when he wasn't trying to steal our fortune or kidnap me. It seemed that Olaf's schemes and having in his clutches were as useless as the weapon in his hands.

"I've always wanted to meet a herpetologist," said Friday. "The island doesn't have an expert on snakes. There's so much of the world I'm missing by living here."

"The world is a wicked place," Count Olaf said quietly.

I shuddered along with the Baudelaires, feeling a chill at the villain's words. We were all silent, watching as the islanders approached along with the sheep. The sheep were dragging the sleigh on which Ishmael's white chair was perched. Ishmael sat on his chair as if he were a king.

I noticed the sheep were also towing another object on the sleigh behind the facilitator's chair. I recognized the object as the large, ornate birdcage that had been found after the previous storm, sparkling in the sunlight.

"Count Olaf," Ishmael said in a booming voice, as soon as his chair arrived. He stared down at the villain scornfully but also carefully, as if memorizing his face.

"Ishmael," Count Olaf said, in his disguised tone.

"Call me Ish," Ishmael said.

"Call me Kit Snicket," Olaf said.

"I'm not going to call you anything," Ishmael growled. "Your reign of treachery is over, Olaf."

Ishmael leaned down to snatch the seaweed wig off of Olaf's head. "I've been told of your schemes and disguises, and we won't stand for it. You'll be locked up immediately."

The islanders, Jonah and Sadie, lifted the birdcage down from the sleigh, putting it on the door and forcing open its door, glowering immensely at Olaf. At Ishmael's nod, Weyden and Ms. Marlow disarmed Count Olaf and dragged him toward the bird cage. I glanced at the Baudelaires, unsure of how I felt. On one hand, it was a relief to finally see Olaf locked up where he couldn't hurt me, my friends, or family. Afterall, he locked me in several cages or small spaces. Also, I remembered the Baudelaires telling me about how he locked Sunny in a bird cage and dangled he from his tower window. But it still made me uneasy. It just didn't feel like justice had been served the way I expected it. Even the members of the High Court had been as corrupt and sinister as Count Olaf himself, while the authorities were trying to capture the Baudelaires for arson and murder. Weyden and Ms. Marlow forced the struggling villain to duck inside the birdcage. He snarled, wrapping his arms around his fake pregnant belly. His head rested against his knees, hunching his back, and the Bellamy siblings closed the door of the cage so it latched securely. Count Olaf barely fit in the cage and it was hard to tell that he was a person at all.

"This isn't fair," Olaf said. His voice was muffled, but I could tell he was still using his disguised voice, as if he couldn't help it. "I'm an innocent pregnant woman, and these children are the real villains. You haven't heard the whole story."

"It depends on how you look at it," Ishmael said firmly. "Friday told me you were unkind, and that's all we need to hear. And this seaweed wig is all we need to see!"

"Ishmael's right," Mrs. Caliban said firmly. "You've been nothing but treacherous, Olaf, and the Baudelaires and Jamie have been nothing but good!"

"'Nothing but good,'" Olaf repeated. "Ha! Why don't you ask Jamie where her true loyalties lie if you think she's so good? Did she neglect to tell you that she's my henchwoman? She was stealing food for me every meal!"

"I am not your henchwoman!" I growled.

"Then, why did you steal food for me?" Count Olaf said.

Ishmael looked at me. "Is this true? Did you steal food from the island, Jamie?"

I sighed. "Yes," I admitted. "But he threatened to hurt me or my friends if I didn't. I was only trying to protect the island from harm."

"And why don't you look in the baby's pockets?" Olaf went on. Even when he was all locked up, we still couldn't really escape from him. "She's hiding a kitchen implement that one of your precious islanders gave her!"

Ishmael looked down at Sunny from his chair. "Is that true, Sunny?" he asked. "Are you keeping secrets from us?"

Sunny looked up at the facilitator, and then at the birdcage. "Yes," she admitted, and took the whisk out of her pocket as the islanders gasped.

"Who gave this to you?" Ishmael demanded.

"Nobody gave it to her," Klaus said quickly, not daring to look at Friday. "It's just something that survived the storm along with us." He reached into his pocket and brought out his commonplace book. "Each of us has something, Ishmael. Jane and I have notebooks, and my sister has a ribbon she likes to use to tie up her hair."

There was another gasp from the assembled colonists, and Violet took the ribbon out of her pocket. "We didn't mean any harm," she said.

"We're sorry," I said. Taking out my own notebook. "We know it was wrong."

"You were told of the island's customs," the facilitator said sternly, "and you chose to ignore them. We were very kind to you, giving you food and clothing and shelter, and even letting you keep your glasses. And in turn, you were unkind to us."

"They made a mistake," Friday said, giving us a grateful look.

"We'll let the sheep take these things away, and forget all about it."

"That seems fair," said Sherman.

"I agree," Professor Fletcher said.

"Me too," Omeros said, who had picked up the harpoon gun.

Ishmael frowned. But then more islanders agreed and he was forced to give in to peer pressure. He gave us a small smile. "I suppose they can stay," he said, "if they don't rock the boat any further." He sighed, and then he looked down, noticing the Incredibly Deadly Viper, who had taken a brief swim and now stared up at the facilitator.

"What is that?" Mr. Pitcairn asked, with a frightened gasp.

"It's a friendly snake we found," Friday said.

"Who told you it was friendly?" demanded Ferdinand.

Friday looked at us in dismay. We knew that there was no chance of convincing Ishmael that keeping the snake was a good idea.

"Nobody told me," Friday said quietly. "It just seems friendly."

"It looks incredibly deadly," Erewhon said with a frown. "I say we dump it in the arboretum."

"We don't want a snake slithering around the arboretum," Ishmael said, stroking his beard quickly. "It might hurt the sheep. I won't force you, but I think we should abandon it here with Count Olaf. Come along now, it's almost lunchtime. Baudelaires, please push that cube of books to the arboretum, and–"

"Our friend shouldn't be moved," Violet interrupted, with a gesture to Kit's unconscious figure. "We need to help her."

"I didn't realize there was a castaway up there," Mr. Pitcairn said, peering at the bare foot that was still hanging over the side of the cube. "Look, she has the same tattoo as the villain!"

"She's my girlfriend," said Olaf from the birdcage. "You should either punish us both or set us both free."

"She's not your girlfriend!" Klaus cried. "She's our friend, and she's in trouble!"

"It seems that from the moment you joined us, the island is threatened with secrecy and treachery," Ishmael said, with a weary sigh. "We've never had to punish anyone here before you arrived, and now there's another suspicious person lurking around the island. You were lucky we let Jamie stay on the island in the first place. I expected this kind of behavior from her because she seemed suspicious, but I thought you Baudelaires wouldn't sink to her level."

"Excuse me," I said, a little offended. "I never did anything to make you suspicious the day of our arrival. So don't start making assumptions about the kind of person I am." Maybe I was Olaf's henchwoman, but Ishmael didn't know that until just now. What would make him think I was someone suspicious on the day of our arrival? Unless…he didn't tell us his entire story.

"Dreyfuss?" Sunny added, which meant, "What precisely are you accusing us of?" but the facilitator talked over her.

"I won't force you," Ishmael said, "but if you want to be a part of the safe place we've constructed, I think you should abandon this Kit

Snicket person, too, even though I've never heard of her."

"We won't abandon her," Violet said. "She needs our help."

"As I said, I won't force you," Ishmael said, with one last tug on his beard. "Good-bye, Baudelaires and Jamie. You can stay here on the coastal shelf with your friend and your books, if those things are so important to you."

"But what will happen to them?" asked Willa. "Decision Day is approaching, and the coastal shelf will flood with water."

"That's their problem," Ishmael said, and gave the islanders a slightly snobbish shrug. As he raised his shoulders, an object rolled out of the sleeve of his robe, landing in the water. I couldn't tell what it was from here, but it was enough to make Ishmael clap his hands rapidly to distract the islanders from wondering about it.

"Let's go!" he cried, and the sheep began to drag him back toward his tent. A few islanders gave us apologetic looks, as if they didn't agree with Ishmael's suggestions but did not dare want to resist the peer pressure of their fellow colonists. Professor Fletcher and Omeros, looked particularly regretful, and Friday looked as if she was going to cry. She was about to say something, but Mrs. Caliban stepped forward and put her arm firmly around her daughter's shoulders, and she merely gave the siblings a sad wave and walked away with her mother. For a moment, I was too shocked to say anything. This time Count Olaf had not been successful in his scheme and ended up locked up in a cage. Yet, we were still in danger and abandoned like the rest of the detritus in the coastal shelf. All I could think of was Esmé walking away from me and I felt like I was going to cry.

"This isn't fair," Klaus said finally, so quietly that only Violet, Sunny, the snake, and Count Olaf, of course, could hear.

"Life isn't fair," Count Olaf answered, in his undisguised voice, and for once, I couldn't help agree with every word the villain said.

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**I'll try to update ASAP! :)**

****Note: Just to let you know, since this fic is mostly about Klaus and Jane/Jamie Murray and all that, i wanted to change the V.F.D. pasts up a bit to include my own version of Esmé's past as well as Jamie's parents, and all that, which means i have to change Olaf's past a bit. I hope to write a spin-off about it later so i'm not going to give too much away. But i'm not keeping the whole Olaf/Kit pairing-I don't have anything against them (though it did creep me out when i first read the last book lol). But i just wanted to make it more my own if you know what i mean. :)**

**Thanks for your wonderful reviews! I can't believe the ASOUE part is almost over! :O**


	20. Temptation

**Here's a new chapter! ENJOY! :)**

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**Chapter Seven: Temptation**

As we sat in the abandoned coastal shelf, I gazed gloomily up at the lone cloud hanging over our heads from last night's storm. I could feel a chill coming from the colony's disapproval and suspicion.

"I can't believe it," Violet said. "I can't believe we've been abandoned."

"Not again," I whispered, sadly.

"We thought we could cast away everything that happened to us before we arrived here," Klaus said, "but this place is no safer than anywhere else we've been."

"But what to do?" Sunny asked.

Violet looked around the coastal shelf. "I suppose we can catch fish and harvest seaweed to eat," she said. "Our meals won't be much different from those on the island."

"If fire," Sunny said thoughtfully, "then saltbake carps."

"We can't live here," Klaus pointed out. "Decision Day is approaching, and the coastal shelf will be underwater. We either have to live on the island, or figure out a way to get back to where we came from."

"How will we get back without a boat?" I asked.

"We'll never survive a journey at sea without a boat," Violet said in agreement.

"Kit did," Sunny pointed out.

"The library must have served as a sort of raft," Klaus said, running his hand along the books, "but she couldn't have come far on a boat of paper ."

"I hope she met up with the Quagmires," Violet said.

"I hope she'll wake up and tell us what happened," Klaus said.

"Do you think she's seriously hurt?" Violet asked.

"What about her baby?" I asked. "I hope it didn't get hurt."

"There's no way to tell without a complete medical examination," Klaus

said, "but, except for her ankle, she looks all right. She's probably just exhausted from the storm."

"Worried," Sunny said sadly. She meant something along the lines of, "I wish there was a dry, warm blanket on the coastal shelf that could be used to cover her."

"We can't just worry about Kit," Klaus said. "We need to worry about ourselves."

"We have to think of a plan," Violet said wearily, and we all sighed. Even the Incredibly Deadly Viper uttered a sort of sigh, resting its head sympathetically on Sunny's foot. It seemed we might have sat here for a long time if it wasn't for Count Olaf, who broke the silence.

"I have a plan," Count Olaf said. "Let me out and I'll tell you what it is."

He was no longer speaking in his high-pitched voice, but it was still muffled from inside the cage. We turned to look at him and it was hard to recognize him through the orange and yellow dress that covered most of him up, and we could not see his false pregnant belly or the tattoo of an eye on his ankle. We could see only a few fingers and toes poking out from between the cage's bars, and if we looked close enough, we could make out one of his eyes staring out at us from his captivity as well as the wet curl of his mouth.

"We're not letting you out," Violet said. "We have enough trouble without you wandering around loose."

"Suit yourself," Olaf said, and his dress rustled as he attempted to shrug.

"But you'll drown as surely as I will when the coastal shelf floods. You can't build a boat, because the islanders have scavenged everything from the storm. And you can't live on the island, because the colonists have abandoned you. Even though we're shipwrecked, we're still in the same boat."

"We don't need your help, Olaf," Klaus said. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here in the first place."

"Yeah," I said in agreement. "You're the one who threatened to unleash the Medusoid Mycellium unless I stole food for you."

"And you were supposed to keep that a secret," Olaf growled. "But I knew you couldn't keep a secret, but I was bored and messing with your head was exciting."

I scowled.

"But don't be so sure that I'm the major reason why you've been abandoned," Count Olaf continued, grinning slyly. "Everything eventually washes up on these shores, to be judged by that idiot in the robe. Do you think you're the first Baudelaires to find yourselves here or the first Murray?"

"What you mean?" Sunny demanded.

"Let me out," Olaf said, with a muffled chuckle, "and I'll tell you."

I looked at the Baudelaires, doubtfully. "You're trying to trick

us," I said, "You may have tricked me in the past, but not this time."

"Of course I'm trying to trick you!" Olaf cried. "That's the way of the world, orphans. Everybody runs around with their secrets and their schemes, trying to outwit everyone else. Ishmael outwitted me, and put me in this cage. But I know how to outwit him and all his islander friends. If you let me out, I can be king of Olaf-Land, and you four can be my new henchfolk."

"For the last time," I said, in irritation. "We're not your henchpeople."

"We just want to be safe," Klaus said.

"Nowhere in the world is safe," Count Olaf said.

"Not with you around," Violet agreed.

"I'm no worse than anyone else," Count Olaf said. "Ishmael is just as treacherous as I am."

"Fustianed," Sunny said.

"It's true!" Olaf insisted, though he probably didn't know what Sunny was saying. "Look at me! I'm stuffed into a cage for no good reason! Does that sound familiar, you stupid baby? And weren't you locked in a cage once Blondie?"

"Don't call Sunny stupid or a baby," I said, in her defense. But I did sort of get what he was trying to say. But then again, Olaf was a treacherous villain, while Sunny and I had been locked in a cage for no good reason.

"My sister is not a baby," Violet said firmly, backing me up, "and Ishmael is not treacherous. He may be misguided, but he's only trying to make the island a safe place."

"Is that so?" Olaf said, and the cage shook as he chuckled. "Why don't you reach into that pool, and see what Ishmael dropped into the puddle?"

I looked at the Baudelaires. I nearly forgot about the object that had fallen out of Ishmael's sleeve. I gazed down into the water, but the Incredibly Deadly Viper retrieved the object in its mouth, depositing it into Sunny's waiting hand.

"Takk," Sunny said, thanking the snake by scratching it on the head.

"What is it?" I asked, leaning in to look at what the viper had retrieved.

"It's an apple core," Klaus said.

Sunny held the core out for us to see. The apple had been devoured, so that scarcely anything remained.

"You see?" Olaf asked. "While the other islanders have to do all the work, Ishmael sneaks off to the arboretum on his perfectly healthy feet and eats all the apples for himself! Your beloved facilitator not only has clay on his feet, he has feet of clay!"

The birdcage shook as Count Olaf burst into laughter, and I looked from the apple core to the Baudelaires. I know "feet of clay" is an expression which refers to someone who seems honest and true, but has a hidden weakness or a dark secret. Although I didn't think it was right that Ishmael abandoned us on the coastal shelf, I at least, assumed he was doing it to protect the island. Even if I didn't always agree with Ishmael, I had at least grown to respect him for trying to create a safe place. But knowing that this safe place was built on lies changed the way I looked at Ishmael. He betrayed the islanders and us. While the islanders were forced to give up certain things due to peer pressure, Ishmael was taking apples from the aboretum and making the islanders do all the work. I remembered how he told us he could predict the weather with magic, and how he had that suspicious look in his eye when he said the island had no library. It made me wonder if he was keeping more secrets. The Baudelaires and I sank onto a mound of damp sand, and rested against the cube of books. I couldn't believe we could have traveled so far from the world only to run into more corruption and dishonesty. Olaf was right when he said nowhere was truly safe.

"What is your plan?" I asked Olaf after a long pause. I couldn't believe I was getting sucked into this again. But what else could we do?

"Let me out of this cage," Olaf said, "and I'll tell you."

"Tell us first," Klaus said, "and perhaps we'll let you out."

"Let me out first," Olaf insisted.

"Tell us first," Sunny insisted, just as firmly.

"I can argue with you all day," the villain growled. "Let me out, I tell you, or I'll take my plan to my grave!"

"We can think of a plan without you," Violet said. "We've managed to escape plenty of difficult situations without your help."

"I have the only weapon that can threaten Ishmael and his supporters," Count Olaf said.

"The harpoon gun?" Klaus said. "Omeros took that away."

"Not the harpoon gun, you scholarly moron," Count Olaf said disdainfully.

"I'm talking about the Medusoid Mycelium!"

"Fungus!" Sunny cried. Her siblings gasped, and even the Incredibly Deadly Viper looked as astonished as a snake can look. I was not too surprised. I knew he had it and he was willing to use it. But where was it?

"It's your bump," I said, suddenly realizing where it must be.

Olaf grinned from inside his cage. "You're smarter than I thought," he said. "I'm not really pregnant. The diving helmet containing the spores of the Medusoid Mycelium is hidden in this dress I'm wearing. If you let me out, I can threaten the entire colony with these deadly mushrooms. All those robed fools will be my slaves!"

"What if they refuse?" Violet asked.

"Then I'll smash the helmet open," Olaf crowed, "and this whole island will be destroyed."

"But we'll be destroyed, too," Klaus said. "The spores will infect us, the same as everyone else."

"Yomhashoah," Sunny said, which meant "Never again."

"I've been trying to convince Blondie to tell me the antidote," he said, "but of course she wouldn't tell me. Luckily, I thought of another solution—we can escape on the outrigger. The island imbeciles have been building it all year. It's perfect for leaving this place behind and heading back to where the action is."

"Why do we have to use weapons?" I said, nervous about unleashing the poison. "There are much more peaceful ways to handle this situation."

Olaf let out a wicked laugh. "You really are stupid," he said.

"Jane isn't stupid," Klaus said, "She's right. We don't have to handle this using violence. Fighting fire with fire has only brought us more misery."

"There's no way to overthrow a ruler without violence, you fool," Olaf replied, still laughing.

"That's not true," I said firmly.

"Maybe they'll just let us leave," Violet said. "Friday said that anyone who wishes to leave the colony can climb aboard the outrigger on Decision Day."

"That little girl hasn't been here long," sneered Count Olaf, "so she still believes Ishmael lets people do whatever they want. Don't be as dumb as she is, orphans."

Klaus had pulled out his commonplace book and was taking notes on our conversation.

"How do you know so much about this place, Olaf?" he demanded. "You've only been here a few days, just like us!"

"_Just like you_," the villain repeated mockingly, and the cage shook with laughter again. "Do you think your pathetic history is the only story in the world? Do you think this island has just sat here in the sea, waiting for you to wash up on its shores? Do you think that I just sat in my home in the city, waiting for you miserable orphans to stumble into my path?"

"Boswell," Sunny said. She meant something along the lines of, "Your life doesn't interest me," and the Incredibly Deadly Viper seemed to hiss in agreement.

"I could tell you stories, orphans," Count Olaf said in a muffled wheeze. "I could tell you secrets about people and places that you'd never dream of. I could tell you about arguments and schisms that started before you were born. I could even tell you things about yourselves that you could never imagine. I could tell you, Jamie, about Faith and her tragic death. Just open the door of my cage, orphans, and I'll tell you things you could never discover on your own."

I glanced at the Baudelaires and we shuddered. Although it was the middle of the day, Count Olaf was just as horrifying. I realized it didn't matter whether he was locked in a cage, far away from the rest of the world—he was still a danger to us.

I've always been a very curious person. From the moment I heard the notes of a nursery rhyme, I was spellbound and drawn into the magical wonder of music. From the moment I saw a play for the first time, I was curious about the fantasy and beauty of words. But the way Count Olaf spoke…it was so sinister. It felt like I was hearing the hissing of a snake, or lost in a forest in the dead of night. It reminded me of how I had felt when he persuaded me to go willingly into his clutches to protect the Baudelaires, the time when Esmé and Gunther trapped me in the penthouse of 667 Dark Avenue and then threw me down the elevator shaft, the time when the bald man and, later the man with a beard but no hair, locked me in a room with him and I realized what he was about to do, and, lastly, it reminded me of the time Count Olaf tried to persuade me to be one of his henchfolk while on the _Carmelita_. After everything that had happened to me this year, as much as I wished to know all of these secrets, I knew that testing those waters might lead me to even more misery. It was the same with that awful question mark on the radar screen of the _Carmelita, _I knew that was a secret more enormous than I could imagine. Yet learning the secret of what it was might arouse more danger and fear, similar to Pandora's box. Therefore, I did not wish to hear about any of these secrets from anyone, especially not from Count Olaf. Some secrets are better left hidden and although I may have to face them one day, today would not be that day.

"We've been waiting our entire lives for someone to answer all of our questions," I said, solemnly.

Count Olaf grinned. "I know," he said. "And I can answer them. Just open the cage."

"But I think we can wait a little longer," I said, finishing my thought. "Some secrets are better left buried."

Then, without another word, Violet, Klaus, Sunny, and I sat back down, leaning against the raft, while we gazed out at the flat horizon of the sea. I tried not to think about Olaf's words. I drank from my coconut cordial, hoping to distract myself from the odd thoughts in my head. For the rest of the afternoon, I sat with the Baudelaires, drinking coconut cordial, and wondering if I dared unleash the answers to what lay at the heart of my miserable life.

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	21. Heavier

**New chapter! Enjoy! **

**Sorry for the wait! I had a massive school project :( but it's over now so yay! :)**

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**Chapter Eight: Heavier**

As we sat together on the coastal shelf, millions of thoughts swarmed my brain. My thoughts were so heavy that I could barely move. I kept thinking about the island and the horrible storm that had taken us here, and the boat we had traveled on, and all the treachery at Hotel Denouement that had brought us here, and all the past treachery that had led to our current predicament. I could hear Count Olaf's loud snores from inside the birdcage and I was glad he had stopped calling out to us. I continued to think about the islanders abandoning us, and the apple core we had discovered, revealing Ishmael's dark secret. I thought about Kit Snicket and the storm that had brought her here. I wondered whether the Quagmires were affected by the same storm and how they were doing, and I wondered about the Great Unknown, and the schism. I thought about Klaus and wondered if I could ever trust him again, and I thought about my parents and all the mysteries that surrounded my name. Was life supposed to be this complicated?

"Jane," Klaus said, suddenly.

I looked at him in surprise, I felt as if I had woken up from a long, nightmarish dream. "What is it Klaus?"

He reached into his pocket, withdrawing his commonplace book from his pocket. "I lied to you before," he said, "I wasn't writing about the island's culture."

"What then?" I asked, curiously.

"When I read your notebook," Klaus said, "it inspired me to write about my own experiences. It's certainly compensated a bit for not being able to read anything. Of course, I've only written some parts. Mostly they're about you."

"Klaus…" I said, sadly because I realized how much he cared and that worried me. "I already told you that I'm not ready for that sort of thing."

"You said you couldn't trust me," he said, "and I suppose I don't blame you for that. I suppose I just want you to understand my side of things."

"Klaus, I—" I started.

"Please," he insisted, holding out his notebook.

I sighed. "Alright," I said, taking his notebook. "If you insist, I'll read it."

Before I could begin to open the notebook, an unfamiliar voice interrupted me.

"Where am I?" the voice asked, and as I turned to look in the direction of the voice, I realized it belonged to Kit Snicket. I could hear her rustling on top of the raft of books over Olaf's snoring.

"Kit!" Violet said, standing up quickly. "You're awake!"

"It's the Baudelaires," Klaus said.

"And Jamie Murray," I said.

"Baudelaires? Jamie Murray?" Kit repeated faintly. "Is it really you?"

"Anais," Sunny said, which meant "In the flesh."

"Where are we?" Kit said.

"We're on a coastal shelf," Violet said, although she neglected to mention that we had been abandoned there.

"There's an island nearby," Klaus said.

"It's inhabited by many castaways," I said, though I did not mention that a corrupt facilitator ruled it.

"Safe," Sunny said.

We seemed to all agree not to tell Kit the whole story yet.

"Of course," Kit murmured. "I should have known I'd be here. Eventually, everything washes up on these shores."

"Have you been here before?" Violet asked.

"No," Kit said, "but I've heard about this place. My associates have told me stories of its mechanical wonders, its enormous library, and the gourmet meals the islanders prepare. Why, the day before I met you, Baudelaires, I shared Turkish coffee with an associate who was saying that he'd never had better Oysters Rockefeller than during his time on the island. You must be having a wonderful time here."

"Janiceps," Sunny said, restating an earlier opinion.

"I think this place has changed since your associate was here," said Klaus.

"They certainly don't serve Oysters Rockefeller here," I said, "and they don't allow the islanders to read books."

"Hmm," Kit said thoughtfully. "Thursday did say that the colony had suffered a schism, just as V.F.D. did."

"Another schism?" Violet asked.

"Countless schisms have divided the world over the years," Kit replied in the darkness. "Do you think the history of V.F.D. is the only story in the world? But let's not talk of the past, children. Tell me how you made your way to these shores."

"The same way you did," Violet said. "We were castaways. The only way we could leave the Hotel Denouement was by boat."

"I knew you ran into danger there," Kit said. "We were watching the skies. We saw the smoke and we knew you were signaling us that it wasn't safe to join you. Thank you, Baudelaires and Jamie. I knew you wouldn't fail us. Tell me, is Dewey with you?"

I looked at the Baudelaires in despair. Her words sent shivers down my spine and I felt a terrible ache in my heart. I couldn't even begin to form words to explain such a tragedy to Kit when I could barely make sense of it myself.

"No," Violet said. "Dewey isn't here."

"Count Olaf, unfortunately, is here," I said, "He's locked in a cage."

"Viper," Sunny added.

"Oh, I'm glad Ink is safe," Kit said, and I thought they could almost hear her smile. "That's my special nickname for the Incredibly Deadly Viper. Ink kept me good company on this raft after we were separated from the others."

"The Quagmires?" Klaus asked. "You found them?"

"Were they reunited?" I asked, happy at the thought that maybe we would see Duncan, Isadora, and Quigley again. This time they would truly be triplets again.

"Yes," Kit said, and coughed a bit. "But they're not here."

"Maybe they'll wash up here, too," Violet said.

"Maybe," Kit said uncertainly. "And maybe Dewey will join us, too. We need as many associates as we can if we're going to return to the world and make sure that justice is served. But first, let's find this colony I've heard so much about. I need a shower and a hot meal, and then I want to hear the whole story of what happened to you." She started to lower herself down from the raft, but then stopped with a cry of pain.

"You shouldn't move," Violet said quickly. I was glad for an excuse to make sure Kit remained on the coastal shelf. "Your foot's been injured."

"Both my feet have been injured," Kit corrected ruefully, lying back down on the raft. "The telegram device fell on my legs when the submarine was attacked. I need your help, Baudelaires. I need to be someplace safe."

"We'll do everything we can," Klaus said.

I grimaced. This island was far from safe. Everywhere we went, danger seemed not too far away.

"Maybe help is on the way," Kit said. "I can see someone coming."

I turned to look in the direction Kit indicated to see a very small, yet bright light moving toward us from the west. As the light drew closer, I could see a few figures dressed in the typical white robes huddled, moving cautiously among the debris.

I glanced at the Baudelaires and noticed Klaus squinting at the light as if it were familiar. But as the figures became more recognizable, he looked disappointed as if he had been expecting one of his parents to show up at last, and protect us. I put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

The figures arrived at the cube of books, and we could see the faces of Finn, who carried the flashlight, and Erewhon, who carried a large, covered basket.

"Good evening, Baudelaires," Finn said. In the dim light of the flashlight she looked even younger than she was.

"We brought you some supper," Erewhon said, and held out the basket to us. "We were concerned that you might be quite hungry out here."

"We are," Violet admitted.

Although, I was glad to know they were concerned about us, I wished they had expressed that concern earlier today before Ishmael and the others, when they abandoned us on the coastal shelf. However, as Finn produced the onion soup, I did not want to turn this gift away no matter how disappointed I felt.

"Is there enough for our friend?" Klaus asked. "She's regained consciousness."

"I'm glad to hear it," Finn said. "There's enough food for everyone."

"As long as you keep the secret of our coming here," Erewhon said. "Ishmael might not think it was proper."

"Your secret is safe with us," I said, as I accepted the soup Erewhon gave me. I couldn't stop myself from digging in right away.

"I'm surprised he doesn't forbid the use of flashlights," Violet said, as Finn handed her a coconut shell full of steaming soup.

"Ishmael doesn't forbid anything," Finn said. "He'd never force me to throw this flashlight away. However, he did suggest that I let the sheep take it to the arboretum. Instead I slipped it into my robe, as a secret, and Madame Nordoff has been secretly supplying me with batteries in exchange for my secretly teaching her how to yodel, which Ishmael says might frighten the other islanders."

"And Mrs. Caliban secretly slipped me this picnic basket," Erewhon said, "in exchange for my secretly teaching her the backstroke, which Ishmael says is not the customary way to swim."

"Mrs. Caliban?" said Kit, in the darkness. "Miranda Caliban is here?"

"Yes," Finn said. "Do you know her?"

"I know her husband," Kit said. "He and I stood together in a time of great struggle, and we're still very good friends."

"Your friend must be a little confused after her difficult journey,"

Erewhon said the Baudelaires and I, standing on tiptoes so she could hand

Kit some soup. "Mrs. Caliban's husband perished many years ago in the storm that brought her here."

"That's impossible," Kit said, reaching down to take the bowl from the young girl. "I just had Turkish coffee with him."

"How strange," I said, thoughtfully. Friday's father was alive? Imagine if she knew. Would she be thrilled or crushed that such a huge secret had been kept from her?

"Mrs. Caliban is not the sort to keep secrets," Finn said. "That's why she lives on the island. It's a safe place, far from the treachery of the world."

"Enigmorama," Sunny said, putting her coconut shell of soup on the ground so she could share it with the Incredibly Deadly Viper.

"My sister means that it seems this island has plenty of secrets," Klaus said. I thought of my notebook and all the information it contained about our lives.

"I'm afraid we have one more secret to discuss," Erewhon said. "Turn the flashlight off, Finn. We don't want to be seen from the island."

Finn nodded, and turned the flashlight off. The Baudelaires and I glanced at each other one final time before the darkness engulfed us, and for a moment everyone stood in eerie silence, as if afraid to speak. Everything seemed scarier in the darkness and I found myself taking a step closer to the Baudelaires.

"Do you know the meaning of the word 'mutiny'?" she asked, in a calm, quiet voice.

History had always been one of my favorite subjects in school so I knew this word pretty well.

"A mutiny is when a group of people take action against a leader," Klaus answered as always.

"Yes," Finn said. "Professor Fletcher taught me the word."

"We are here to tell you that a mutiny will take place at breakfast," said Erewhon. "More and more colonists are getting sick and tired of the way things are going on the island, and Ishmael is the root of the trouble."

"Tuber?" Sunny asked.

'"Root of the trouble' means 'the cause of the islanders' problems,'" Klaus explained.

"Exactly," Erewhon said, "and when Decision Day arrives we will finally have the opportunity to get rid of him."

"Rid of him?" Violet repeated, the phrase sounding sinister in the dark.

"How?" I asked.

"We're going to force him aboard the outrigger right after breakfast,"

Erewhon said, "and push him out to sea as the coastal shelf floods."

"A man traveling the ocean alone is unlikely to survive," Klaus said.

"He won't be alone," Finn said. "A number of islanders support Ishmael. If necessary, we'll force them to leave the island as well."

"How many?" Sunny asked.

"It's hard to know who supports Ishmael and who doesn't," Erewhon said, and I could hear the old woman sip from her seashell. "You've seen how he acts. He says he doesn't force anyone, but everyone ends up agreeing with him anyway. But no longer. At breakfast we'll find out who supports him and who doesn't."

"Erewhon says we'll fight all day and all night if we have to," Finn said. "Everyone will have to choose sides."

I heard an enormous, miserable sigh from the top of the raft of books. "A schism," Kit said quietly.

"Gesundheit," Erewhon said. "That's why we've come to you, Baudelaires.

We need all the help we can get."

"After the way Ishmael abandoned you, we figured you'd be on our side,"

Finn said. "Don't you agree he's the root of the trouble?"

The Baudelaires and I were silent. I thought about Ishmael and all that we had learned about him. I thought of the way he had kindly allowed us to stay on the island, and then, how quickly he had decided to abandon us on the coastal shelf. I thought about how eager he had been to make the island safe, but also how eager he was to lock Count Olaf in that bird cage. I thought about Ishmael's dishonesty about his injured feet as well as his secret apple eating. However, as I thought about all of the positive and negative things Ishmael had done, there was still so much we did not know, and after hearing both Count Olaf and Kit Snicket talk about the history of the island, I knew that we did not know the whole story. On one hand, I could agree that Ishmael was the root of the trouble, yet I could not be entirely sure.

"I don't know," Violet said.

"You don't know?" Erewhon repeated incredulously. "We brought you supper, and Ishmael left you out here to starve, and you don't know whose side you're on?"

"We trusted you when you said Count Olaf was a terrible person," Finn said. "Why can't you trust us, Baudelaires?"

"Isn't there a better way to handle this kind of situation?" I asked. "The plan seems a bit drastic."

"It's a bit drastic to put a man in a cage," Erewhon pointed out, "but I didn't hear you complaining then."

"Quid pro quo?" Sunny asked.

"If we help you," Violet translated, "will you help Kit?"

"Our friend is injured," Klaus said. "Injured and pregnant."

"And distraught," Kit added weakly, from the top of the raft.

"If you help us in our plan to defeat Ishmael," Finn promised, "we'll get

her to a safe place."

"And if we don't?" I asked.

"We won't force you," Erewhon said, sounding like the facilitator she wanted to defeat, "but Decision Day is approaching, and the coastal shelf will flood. You need to make a choice."

"Well maybe we will stay out here," I said, looking to the Baudelaires for reassurance.

Klaus put a hand on my shoulder. "They're right, Jane," he said quietly so the others couldn't hear, "If the coastal shelf floods we could drown. And Kit needs help."

I sighed. "But I don't want to be apart of a schism," I said.

"What else can we do?" Violet asked.

If it were just me stranded out on this coastal shelf, then maybe I still would have declined their proposal. But I also had the Baudelaires to worry about and Kit Snicket. I couldn't be responsible for another Snicket's death. After witnessing the misery that followed the schism of V.F.D., I was not at all looking forward to participating in one myself. However, it was as if there was truly no choice at all. Just like Violet said, _'what else could we do?' _I wondered how many other people had felt this way during the world's countless schisms, particularly my mother. Maybe she was not as bad as Olaf tried to make me believe. Perhaps she had been just like me, an orphan who had nothing, yet still had too much to lose and there was no way out.

"We'll help you," Violet said finally. "What do you want us to do?"

"We need you to sneak into the arboretum," Finn said. "You mentioned your mechanical abilities, Violet, and Klaus seems very well-read. All of the forbidden items we've scavenged over the years should come in very handy indeed."

"Even the baby should be able to cook something up," Erewhon said.

"And Jamie is a talented performer," Finn said, "Though I don't see how we can use that talent."

I looked down at the coastal shelf floor in shame.

"Jamie has plenty of talents," Klaus interjected. "She's brilliant and one of her many talents is writing."

"Then I'm sure she will be of use," Erewhon said.

"But what do you mean?" Violet asked. "What should we do with all the detritus?"

"We need weapons, of course," Erewhon said in the darkness.

"We hope to force Ishmael off the island peacefully," Finn said quickly, "but Erewhon says we'll need weapons, just in case. Ishmael will notice if we go to the far side of the island, but you four should be able to sneak over the brae, find or build some weapons in the arboretum, and bring them to us here before breakfast so we can begin the mutiny."

"Absolutely not!" cried Kit, from the top of the raft. "I won't hear of you putting your talents to such nefarious use, children. I'm sure the island can solve its difficulties without resorting to violence."

"Did you solve your difficulties without resorting to violence?" Erewhon asked sharply. "Is that how you survived the great struggle you mentioned, and ended up shipwrecked on a raft of books?"

"My history is not important," Kit replied. "I'm worried about the Baudelaires and Jamie."

"People make mistakes," I said. "But you learn from those mistakes. Yes, maybe Kit did some things she's not entirely proud of, but why then would you think such a strategy is okay. If you use weapons to take over the island you'll only appear as menacing as someone like Count Olaf. Is that really how you want to see yourself? Your greed and selfishness can only lead to an inevitable doom. You can change that if you act in a just manner. Haven't you ever seen or at least heard of the musical Les Misérables?"

"No," Finn said, "because Ishmael won't let us learn about musicals."

"I suppose there is something useful about being musically inclined," I said, crossing my arms firmly. "You can learn a lot from Les Mis. It's about the French Revolution—"

"We don't have time to worry about the French Revolution, Jamie. Acting in a peaceful manner has gotten us nowhere," Erewhon said. "Ishmael continues to pressure us into doing whatever he wants us to do. He's not going to listen without force."

"Jamie is right," Kit said, "you should listen to her, Baudelaires."

"She_ is _right. But we're also worried about you, Kit," Violet said. "We need as many associates as we can if we're going to return to the world and make sure that justice is served."

"You need to be in a safe place to recuperate from your injury," Klaus said.

"And baby," said Sunny.

"That's no reason to engage in treachery," Kit said, but she did not sound so sure. Her voice was weak and faint, and I heard the books rustling as she moved her injured feet uncomfortably.

"Please help us," Finn said, "and we'll help your friend."

"There must be a weapon that can threaten Ishmael and his supporters,"

Erewhon said, and now she did not sound like Ishmael. We had heard almost the exact same words from the imprisoned mouth of Count Olaf, and I shuddered to think of the weapon he was hiding in the bird cage.

Violet put down her empty soup bowl, and picked up her baby sister, while Klaus took the flashlight from the old woman. "We'll be back as soon as we can, Kit," the eldest Baudelaire promised. "Wish us luck."

The raft trembled as Kit uttered a long, sad sigh. "Good luck," she said finally. "I wish things were different, children."

"So do we," Klaus replied, and the Baudelaires began to follow the narrow beam of the flashlight back toward the island. After a moment they paused, looking back to see that I was not with them. "Come on, Jane," Klaus said. "Aren't you coming?"

I shook my head. "I can't go," I said. "My parents didn't save my life so I could waste it on some violent mutiny."

"But what about Kit?" Violet asked.

"I don't know," I said. "But maybe she's right. And even if the coastal shelf floods, the result could not be nearly as bad as this plan. I've been alone all my life and I'm not going to allow people to pressure me into doing things anymore. That's how I nearly died in that forest fire, and that's how I ended up as Olaf's henchwoman. Just stand with me, and we can help Kit together."

"We are helping Kit," Violet said. "If we stay out here, we could perish."

"Please come with us," Klaus said. "We don't want to abandon you out here."

"Debara," Sunny said which meant, "We've been torn apart before by this misery. We don't want that to happen again."

"If Ishmael were to die," I said, "the entire island would erupt into a civil war. We'll only be encouraging more chaos. I mean, now we're just retrieving weapons. What are they going to make us do next, _assassinate_ Ishmael? Things are only going to worsen from this."

"I know," Klaus said. "But we don't have any other choice."

I sighed. "I guess so," I said. I suppose I knew it was inevitable, yet there was no way around it. We were all alone in this world and the best we could do was find a way to survive in it. We couldn't fail Kit the way we had failed so many other people. I thought about what happened to Dewey and I feared having another person's death on my hands. "No matter how I feel about the mutiny, I don't want it to separate us."

The Baudelaires nodded. "We will," Klaus promised. He held out his hand and although things were a little awkward between us after I rejected him, I placed my hand in his.

So we set out to the island together, our footsteps made small splashes on the coastal shelf, and I heard the quiet slither of the Incredibly Deadly Viper, loyally following us on our errand. The moon and stars had disappeared, covered in clouds from the recent storm, unless they were signaling a new one. The entire world seemed to vanish outside the secret flashlight's forbidden light. With each damp and uncertain step, I felt heavier, my thoughts weighing me down as I carried them to the arboretum, where all the forbidden items lay waiting for us. I thought about the islanders, and the mutinous schism that would soon divide the colony in two. I thought about Ishmael, and wondered whether his secrets and deceptions meant that he deserved to be at sea. And I thought about the Medusoid Mycelium that was now in Olaf's grasp, and wondered if the islanders would discover that weapon before we could build another. We traveled in the dark, and as we drew closer and closer to the island that had abandoned us, my thoughts grew heavier and heavier, and I began to wish that things were different and that maybe there was another choice.

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	22. The Arboretum

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**Chapter Nine: The Arboretum**

In the dark, the Baudelaires and I made our way over the brae to the far side of the island, in which the arboretum should be contained, while bearing equally dark thoughts. This was not the first time I had felt this way. At my boarding school, I recalled the darkness of the forest at night as well as the shed before the fire began, I had felt this gloomy darkness as I watched the Baudelaires' mansion burn to the ground, and all those times spent in Count Olaf's sinister and filthy home, and I had experienced the darkness of the movie theater when Uncle Monty had taken us to see Zombies in the Snow, and I had been under the dark clouds during Hurricane Herman as it took its toll on Lake Lachrymose. I had faced the darkness of the Finite Forest and the darkness of the night at the New York Boarding School when Count Olaf took me away from the Baudelaires. I remembered the dark nights spent participating in S.O.R.E. at Prufrock Preparatory School, and the darkness of the elevator shaft and later the mermaid statue. I shuddered as I recalled the darkness I dealt with while locked in the small, empty bedroom at Count Olaf's house as punishment for sneaking into his tower room, and I shuddered further as I recalled the darkness of the jailhouse when Jacques was murdered and the darkness of his blood as it pooled onto the floor, in contrast with his white body.

I also remembered the darkness of the Library of Records as Esmé chased us through the room, knocking over file cabinets to squash us like bugs and the darkness of the operating theater when I released that black powder. I recalled the dreary darkness within the small bedroom Count Olaf made me sleep in while we stayed at Caligari Carnival and I recalled the sinister darkness of those nights while I mourned over Violet and Klaus' death. There was the suppressing darkness of the rowing room where all my friends and former enemies were forced into hard labor, and there were the dark waters lurking outside the Carmelita's control room, as I promised to become Olaf's henchwoman. There was the pervading darkness of the sea of Briny Beach after I had joined Olaf, and the darkness of the room in which the other child recruits as well as the closet in which the man with a beard, but no hair and those dark, dark eyes attacked Melissa and I. There was the dark morning when the harpoon hit Dewey Denouement straight in the chest and the dark smoke that had filled the skies as a result of the fire Count Olaf, the Baudelaires, and I had started together.

There were the dark eyes of Count Olaf and his associates, particularly the bald man, and the dark notebooks of the Quagmire triplets, and all the dark passageways I had discovered that led to Uncle Monty;'s Reptile Room, to the Baudelaires' mansion, and out of the Library of Records, and many more that I was yet to discover.

Above all, I was in the dark about my own miserable life. I did not fully understand why the woman with hair but no beard had been plotting to kill me, I did not understand how Count Olaf entered my life, or how he had found the Baudelaires and I countless times, or how he managed to hatch scheme after scheme without being stopped. I did not understand V.F.D., even after I joined Olaf's side of the schism and met several members, and I did not understand how the organization had failed to defeat the villainous people who seemed to come out victorious time and time again, leaving each safe place destroyed beyond repair. I did not understand why Klaus and I both had magic abilities and received invitations to attend some wizard and witchcraft school, which may not even be real, or why there had been a video camera placed inside that strange owl figurine.

I did not understand how I could have lost my parents mysteriously when I was only a baby, or who or what was responsible for their death. I did not understand how my Aunt Faith tied into everything and why she died, and I did not understand why Esmé despised me one moment and the next she was acting like she really did have a heart. I did not understand how injustice and evil could triumph even in a place like this island, which I had believed to be a peaceful place, with the exception of Count Olaf lurking around the coastal shelf, and that happiness and innocence, like the brief memory I had of my parents on the dock, was always so far out of reach. I longed for the day when the Baudelaires and I could go about our lives in peace without any sinister secrets surrounding us. I was in the dark about my own life as well. We were nowhere close to a day filled with peace and happiness, yet as we found our way over the brae, blinking in the glow from the rising sun, and gazed at the vast arboretum before us, I began to wonder if we might not be in the dark any more.

The arboretum was an enormous mass of knowledge, although there was no paper in sight. It was filled with everything you could possibly imagine, the items having been accumulated over the years, and they could probably answer all of our questions. There was everything the alphabet could hold–automobiles and alarm clocks, bandages and beads, cables and chimneys, discs and dominos, earmuffs and emery boards, fiddles and fabric, garrotes and glassware, hangers and husks, icons and instruments, jewelry and jogging shoes, kites and kernels, levers and lawn chairs, machines and magnets, noisemakers and needles, orthodontics and ottomans, pull toys and pillars, quarters and quivers, race cars and rucksacks, saws and skulls, teaspoons and ties, urns and ukuleles, valentines and vines, wigs and wires, xeranthemums and xylorimbas, yachts and yokes, zithers and zabras.

There was a large cardboard box and a chalkboard. There was a motorcycle and countless chopsticks, and things with every number on them, from license plates to calculators. There were even vehicles, including a black jeep, and there were tools, such as a large, old-looking shovel. There were clothing items, including a wedding dress, fishnet stockings, and a torn leather jacket. There were objects from every climate, from snowshoes to ceiling fans; and for every occasion, from menorahs to soccer balls; and there were some things I never even knew existed including, a waterproof fondue set. There were inserts and outhouses, overpasses and underclothes, upholstery and down comforters, hotplates and cold creams and cradles and coffins, some destroyed or slightly decayed or brand new.

There were objects I recognized, including a triangular picture frame, a brass lamp in the shape of a fish, and that mermaid statue that Olaf had put me in to be auctioned off, and there were objects the I had never seen before, including the skeleton of an elephant, which was incredibly enormous, and a glittering green mask someone must have worn as part of a dragonfly or butterfly costume, and there were objects the I did not know if I had seen before, such as a piece of rubber that looked like a fan belt and a music box. There were items that seemed to be part of our story, such as a plastic replica of a clown and a broken telegraph pole, and there were items that seemed part of some other story, such as a carving of a black bird and a shiny gem. All the items, and all their stories, were scattered across the landscape in a way that I could not figure out whether they were organized or not.

It seemed almost like a library—without even a single scrap of paper insight. It was the most enormous library I had ever laid eyes on and I was eager to explore its contents. I stood beside the Baudelaires, silenced in amazement and scanned the landscape filled with objects containing endless stories that could probably be traced back to a time centuries before we were born. Another object caught my attention then, and I looked up, my already wide eyes practically bulging out of my head. Towering over the aboretum and covering the landscape in shadows was the largest tree I had ever seen. It was an apple tree and its trunk was as gigantic as a mansion and branches as long as a city street, which protected the library's contents from the storms and offered its bitter apples to anyone who dared to pick one.

"Words fail me," Sunny said in a hushed whisper.

"Me, too," Klaus agreed. "I can't believe what we're seeing. The islanders told us that everything eventually washes up on these shores, but I never imagined the arboretum would hold so many things."

"This place has so many things that we might never have to or want to leave," I said. "I can't believe so many things have been thrown away as if they're garbage."

Violet picked up an item that lay at her feet–a pink ribbon decorated with plastic daisies–and began to wind it around her hair. "Think of what I could build here," she said. "I could build splints for Kit's feet, a boat to take us off the island, a filtration system so we could drink fresh water..." Her voice trailed off, and she stared up at the branches of the tree. "I could invent anything and everything."

Klaus picked up the object at his feet–a cape made of scarlet silk–and held it in his hands. "There must be countless secrets in a place like this," he said. "Even without a book, I could investigate anything and everything."

"I could build my own recording studio with all this equipment," I said, eagerly, "well, with Violet's help, of course. And I saw that grand piano from before and maybe there's a guitar too."

Sunny looked around her. "Service a la Russe," she said, which meant something like, "Even with the simplest of ingredients, I could prepare an extremely elaborate meal."

"I don't know where to begin," Violet said, running a hand along a pile of broken white wood that looked like it had once been part of a gazebo.

"We begin with weapons," Klaus said grimly. "That's why we're here. Erewhon and Finn are waiting for us to help them mutiny against

Ishmael."

The oldest Baudelaire shook her head. "It doesn't seem right," she said.

"We can't use a place like this to start a schism."

"I can't help but agree with you, Jane," Klaus said. "Maybe you're right and a schism isn't necessary. There are millions of items here that could help the colony, but thanks to Ishmael, they've all been abandoned here."

"No one forced anyone to abandon anything," I said.

"Peer pressure," Sunny pointed out.

"We can try a little peer pressure of our own," Violet said firmly. "We've defeated worse people than Ishmael with far fewer materials."

"But do we really want to defeat Ishmael?" Klaus asked. "He's made the island a safe place, even if it is a little boring, and he kept Count Olaf away, even if he is a little cruel. He has feet of clay, but I'm not sure he's the root of the problem."

"That's true," I said, "there was hardly any violence on the island until a few days ago. It might have been an unjust way to rule, however, he did accomplish his goal of keeping the island at relative peace. Do you think we're the reason for all this chaos? It seems that wherever we go, chaos comes with us. Are we the root of the problem?"

"That can't be true," Klaus said, "We were only trying to do the right thing. Maybe we kept some secrets, but everyone on the island seems to be hiding something too. That doesn't mean that we're the root of the problem, right?"

"Then, what _is _the root of the problem?" Violet asked.

"Ink," Sunny said.

We glanced at Sunny in confusion and I realized that she was not answering our question, but gesturing to the Incredibly Deadly Viper, who was slithering quickly away from us, its eyes moving all around and its tongue extended to sniff the air.

"It appears to know where it's going," Violet said.

"Maybe it's been here before," Klaus said.

"Taylit," Sunny said, meaning, "Let's follow the reptile and see where it heads."

Sunny hurried after the snake, not bothering to wait to see if we agreed. Violet, Klaus, and I hurried after her. We scrambled over all kinds of discarded items from a cardboard box, soaked through from the storm, that was full of something white and lacy, to a painted backdrop of a sunset, that might have been used for a performance of some sort. I could tell that the path had been traveled before, since the ground was covered in footprints.

The snake was moving so fast that we could barely keep up, however, we could trace the footprints which were dusted along the edges in white powder—dried clay actually. Ishmael's footprints led us to the base of the apple tree just as the snake's tail disappeared into a gap in the tree's roots.

The tree must have been quite old for the roots formed a hollow space in the trees trunk, into which the Incredibly Deadly Viper had vanished. We took turns entering the hollow space, and I wondered what other secrets were being sheltered from the rest of the island. It was dark underneath the

roots of the tree, and we paused for a moment to adjust to the gloom and figure out what this secret place was, but then Klaus took out the flashlight, turning it on so we could see.

The space was much larger than I could have anticipated and surprisingly well-furnished. Along one wall was a large stone bench lined with what looked like simple, clean tools, including several sharp-looking razorblades, a glass pot of paste, and several wooden brushes with narrow, fine tips. Next to the wall was a grand piano similar to the one I had seen arrive on the island the day we arrived, and there was an enormous bookcase, which was packed with books of all shapes and sizes, as well as a wide-variety of documents that were stacked, rolled, and stapled with extreme care. The shelves of the bookcase stretched away from us, beyond the flashlight's glow and disappeared into the darkness, so there was no way of knowing how long the bookcase was, or how many books and documents it contained. Opposite the bookcase was an elaborate, expanded kitchen, with a large potbellied stove, several porcelain sinks, and a tall, humming refrigerator, as well as a square wooden table covered in appliances ranging from a blender to a fondue set. Over the table hung a rack from which dangled all manner of kitchen utensils and pots, as well as sprigs of dried herbs, a variety of whole dried fish, and even a few cured meats, such as salami and prosciutto. An astonishing looking spice rack was nailed to the wall, and filled with jars of herbs and bottles of condiments. There was a cupboard with glass doors nailed to the wall beside it and I could see through to the piles of plates, bowls, and mugs inside. Finally, in the center of this enormous space were two large, comfortable reading chairs, one that was empty, and the other one had a gigantic book on the seat, I'd never seen a book so large—it was bigger than an encyclopedia. Lastly, there was an odd device made of brass that looked like a large tube with a pair of binoculars at the bottom, which rose up into the thick canopy of roots that formed the ceiling.

As the Incredibly Deadly Viper hissed proudly, at its discovery, the Baudelaires and I stared around the room. I grew excited thinking about what it would be like to possibly live here. I imagined playing the piano every day and all day, refining my skills and creating songs of my own. I could imagine curling up in one of those large, comfortable chairs beside Klaus as he read book after book full of endless information. Sunny could be in the kitchen preparing a seafood dish seasoned with spices for just the perfect taste and Violet would be studying the brass device or inventing whatever other neat device popped into her head. I could imagine never leaving this place and being extremely happy, so long as the Baudelaires were here with me, and we were safe from the world's treachery.

Violet walked over to the brass device and peered into the eyes of the binoculars. "I can see the ocean," she said in surprise. "This is an enormous periscope, much bigger than the one in the Queequeg. It must run all the way up the trunk of the tree and jut out over the highest branch."

"But why would you want to look at the ocean from here?" Klaus asked.

"From this height," Violet explained, "you could see any storm clouds that might be heading this way. This is how Ishmael predicts the weather–not by magic, but with scientific equipment."

"I knew he was lying," I said, "I wonder what other secrets he's hiding down here."

"And these tools are used to repair books," Klaus said. "Of course books wash up on the island–everything does, eventually. But the pages and bindings of the books are often damaged by the storm that brought them, so Ishmael repairs them and shelves them here."

I stepped toward the bookshelf so I could read some of the titles. I noticed there was a section containing books that I recognized—playbooks!

"There are playbooks too," I said, "There's Antonin Chekhov, Bernard Shaw, Chistopher Durang, Nicky Silver, Oscar Wilde, _Shakespeare_! And those are just a few of the playwrights." I continued scanning the titles. "And oh—look! Some songbooks. "

Sunny picked up a familiar object from the wooden table–her whisk–and held it to her nose. "Fritters," she said. "With cinnamon."

"Ishmael walks to the arboretum to watch for storms, read books, play music, and cook spiced food," Violet said. "Why would he pretend to be an injured facilitator who predicts the weather through magic, claims that the island has no library, and prefers bland meals?"

Klaus walked to the two reading chairs and lifted the heavy, thick book.

"Maybe this will tell us," he said, and shone the flashlight so we could see the long, somewhat wordy title printed on the front cover.

"What does it mean?" I asked. "That title could mean anything."

Klaus opened the book to a page marked with a thin piece of black cloth. The bookmark was Violet's hair ribbon, which she quickly grabbed. "I think it's a history of the island," Klaus said, "written like a diary. Look, here's what the most recent entry says: 'Yet another figure from the shadowy past has washed ashore–Kit Snicket (_see page 667_). Convinced the others to abandon her, and the Baudelaires, who have already rocked the boat far too much, I fear. Also managed to have Count Olaf locked in a cage. Note to self: Why won't anyone call me Ish?'"

"Ishmael said he'd never heard of Kit Snicket," Violet said, "but here he writes that she's a figure from the shadowy past."

"Six six seven," Sunny said, and Klaus nodded. Handing the flashlight to his older sister, he quickly turned the pages of the book, flipping back in the pages of the island's history until he reached the page Ishmael had mentioned.

"'Inky has learned to lasso sheep,'" Klaus read, '"and last night's storm washed up a postcard from Kit Snicket, addressed to Olivia Caliban. Kit, of course, is the sister of...'"

His voice trailed off, and Violet, Sunny, and I stared at him in confusion. "What's wrong, Klaus?" I asked, well-aware of who Kit's brothers were. "That entry doesn't seem particularly mysterious."

"It's not the entry," Klaus said, so quietly I could barely hear him. "It's the handwriting."

"Familia?" Sunny asked, as the Incredibly Deadly Viper slithered up to sit on her shoulders, as if it also longed to know the writer of those words so long ago. We all stepped closer to one another so we were huddled together around the beam of the flashlight as if it were a warm campfire on a freezing night, and gazed down at the pages of the strangely titled book in confusion. I did not understand what Sunny meant this time and I did not recognize the hand-writing at all.

"Yes, Baudelaires," said a voice from the far end of the room. "That's your mother's handwriting."

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	23. A Series of Unfortunate Events

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**Chapter Ten: A Series of Unfortunate Events**

Ishmael moved out of the darkness, trailing a hand along the shelves of the bookcase, as he slowly walked toward us. Through the flashlight's dim glow, I was unable to figure out if he was smiling or frowning underneath his wild, woolly beard.

Then, Ishmael flicked a switch on the wall, and lit up the secret space underneath the large apple tree, which I realized had electric lights. He was neither smiling nor frowning, but showing an expression that was an odd blend of the two, as if he were nervous about his secret being discovered.

"I knew you'd come here," he said finally, after a long silence. "It's in your blood. I've never known a Baudelaire who didn't rock the boat or a Murray for that matter."

"You're one to talk," I said with a frown. "And what could you possibly know about my family?"

"What is this place?" Violet asked. "How did you know our parents?"

"Why have you lied to us about so many things?" Klaus demanded. "Why are you keeping so many secrets?"

"Who are you?" Sunny asked.

Ishmael took another step closer to us and gazed down at

Sunny, who gazed back at the facilitator, and then stared down at the clay still packed around his feet.

"Did you know I used to be a schoolteacher?" he asked. "This was many years ago, in the city. There were always a few children in my chemistry classes who had the same gleam in their eyes that you children have. Those students always turned in the most interesting assignments." He sighed, and sat down on one of the reading chairs in the center of the room. "They also always gave me the most trouble. I remember one child in particular, who had scraggly dark hair and just one eyebrow."

"Count Olaf," Violet said.

Ishmael frowned, and looked at Violet curiously. "No," he said.

"This was a little girl. She had one eyebrow and, thanks to an accident in

her grandfather's laboratory, only one ear. She was an orphan, and she

lived with her siblings in a house owned by a terrible woman, a violent

drunkard who was famous for having killed a man in her youth with

nothing but her bare hands and a very ripe cantaloupe. The cantaloupe

was grown on a farm that is no longer in operation, the Lucky Smells

Melon Farm, which was owned by–"

"Sir," Klaus said.

Ishmael frowned again. "No," he said. "The farm was owned by two brothers, one of whom was later murdered in a small village, where three innocent children were accused of the crime."

"Jacques," Sunny said.

"No," Ishmael said.

"Lemony?" I asked.

"No," Ishmael said with another frown. "There was some argument about his name, actually, as he appeared to use several names depending on what he was wearing. In any case, the student in my class began to be very suspicious about the tea her guardian would pour for her when she got home from school. Rather than drink it, she would dump it into a houseplant that had been used to decorate a well-known stylish restaurant with a fish theme."

"Café Salmonella," Violet said.

"No," Ishmael said, and frowned once more. "The Bistro Smelt. Of course, my student realized she couldn't keep feeding tea to the houseplant, particularly after it withered away and the houseplant's owner was whisked off to Peru aboard a mysterious ship."

"The _Prospero_" Klaus said.

Ishmael offered the youngsters yet another frown. "Yes," he said, "although at the time the ship was called the _Pericles_. But my student didn't know that. She only wanted to avoid being poisoned, and I had an idea that an antidote might be hidden–"

"Yaw," Sunny interrupted, and I nodded in agreement. I knew she meant, "Ishmael's story is tangential."

"Is this story going anywhere?" I asked. "Honestly, it feels as if more questions are being brought to our attention than answers.

"We want to know what's going on here on the island, at this very moment," Violet said, "not what happened in a classroom many years ago."

"But what is happening now and what happened then are part of the same story," Ishmael said. "If I don't tell you how I came to prefer tea that's as bitter as wormwood, then you won't know how I came to have a very important conversation with a waiter in a lakeside town. And if I don't tell you about that conversation, then you won't know how I ended up on a certain bathyscaphe, or how I ended up shipwrecked here, or how I came to meet both of your parents, or anything else contained in this book." He took the heavy volume from Klaus's hands and ran his fingers up and down its spine, where the long title was printed in gold block letters. "People have been writing stories in this book since the first castaways washed up on the island, and all the stories are connected in one way or another. If you ask one question, it will lead you to another, and another, and another. It's like peeling an onion."

"But you can't read every story, and answer every question," Klaus said, "even if you'd like to."

Ishmael smiled and tugged at his beard. "That's just what your parents told me," he said. "When I arrived here they'd been on the island a few months, but they'd become the colony's facilitators, and had suggested some new customs. Your father had suggested that a few castaway construction workers install the periscope in the tree, to search for storms, and your mother had suggested that a shipwrecked plumber devise a water filtration system, so the colony could have fresh water, right from the kitchen sink. Your parents were here as well Jamie, although they weren't married when they were castaways. Of course, I knew your mother from before the island as well as several other members of your family." He grimaced and I wondered if one of those people he had met was Esmé Squalor. "In fact, your mother was not the first Murray to set foot here. But never mind that, that's part of another story. Anyways, your mother helped collect the array of playbooks and songbooks on these shelves. There used to be a piano similar to the one over there." He gestured to the grand piano. "But it was destroyed and used to build one of the outriggers. Your mother helped restore the piano when it was discovered and your father recorded their history in his commonplace book. Abigail, Henry, and the Baudelaire parents had begun a library from all the documents that were here, and were adding hundreds of stories to this book. Gourmet meals were served, and your parents had convinced some of the other castaways to expand this underground space." He gestured to the long bookshelf, which disappeared into the darkness. "They wanted to dig a passageway that would lead to a marine research center and rhetorical advice service some miles away."

The Baudelaires exchanged amazed looks, but I suppose I had missed out on learning about whatever they knew when I was stuck in Olaf's clutches. I would have to ask them about it later.

"You mean if we walk along the bookcase," Klaus said, "we'll reach Anwhistle Aquatics?"

My eyes widened as I remembered learning about Anwhistle Aquatics. That was the place where the hook handed man, or Fernald, set that fire. It was strange to think that such a peaceful place was so close to one that had been marred by such an unfortunate tragedy.

Ishmael shook his head. "The passageway was never finished," he said, "and it's a good thing, too. The research center was destroyed in a fire, which might have spread through the passageway and reached the island. And it turned out that a very deadly fungus was contained in that place. I shudder to think what might happen if the Medusoid Mycelium ever reached these shores."

I exchanged glances with the Baudelaires. Should we tell Ishmael about the spores contained in the diving helmet? I didn't see any reason to do that. I didn't trust Ishmael at the moment and if the islanders found out about it, I worried they might use it. So none of us spoke up about what we knew.

"Some islanders thought the passage was a wonderful idea," Ishmael continued. "Your parents wanted to carry all of the documents that had washed up here to Anwhistle Aquatics, where they might be sent to a sub-sub-librarian who had a secret library. Others wanted to keep the island safe, far from the treachery of the world. By the time I arrived, some islanders wanted to mutiny, and abandon both your parents on the coastal shelf." The facilitator heaved a great sigh, and closed the heavy book in his lap. "I walked into the middle of this story," he said, "just as you walked into the middle of mine. Some of the islanders had found weapons in the detritus, and the situation might have become violent if I hadn't convinced the colony to simply abandon your parents. We allowed them to pack a few books into a fishing boat your father had built, and in the morning they left with a few of their comrades as the coastal shelf flooded. They left behind everything they'd created here, from the periscope I use to predict the weather to the commonplace book where I continue their research."

"You drove our parents away?" Violet asked in amazement.

"They were very sad to go," Ishmael said. "Your mother was pregnant with you, Violet, and well, your mother, Abigail, was very distraught, as she was still suffering from a serious illness, and after all of their years with or, in Abigail's case, against, V.F.D. they weren't sure they wanted their children exposed to the world's treachery. But they didn't understand that if the passageway had been completed, you would have been exposed to the world's treachery in any case. Sooner or later, everyone's story has an unfortunate event or two–a schism or a death, a fire or a mutiny, the loss of a home or the destruction of a tea set. The only solution, of course, is to stay as far away from the world as possible and lead a safe, simple life."

"That's why you keep so many items away from the others," Klaus said.

"It depends on how you look at it," Ishmael said. "I wanted this place to be as safe as possible, so when I became the island's facilitator, I suggested some new customs myself. I moved the colony to the other side of the island, and I trained the sheep to drag the weapons away, and then the books and mechanical devices, so none of the world's detritus would interfere with our safety. I suggested we all dress alike, and eat the same meals, to avoid any future schisms."

"Jojishoji," Sunny said, which meant something like, "I don't believe that abridging the freedom of expression and the free exercise thereof is the proper way to run a community."

"Sunny's right," Violet said. "The other islanders couldn't have agreed with these new customs."

"I didn't force them," Ishmael said, "but, of course, the coconut cordial helped. The fermented beverage is so strong that it serves as a sort of opiate for the people here."

"Lethe?" Sunny asked.

"An opiate is something that makes people drowsy and inactive," Klaus said, "or even forgetful."

"The more cordial the islanders drank," Ishmael explained, "the less they thought about the past, or complained about the things they were missing."

"That's why hardly anyone leaves this place," Violet said. "They're too drowsy to think about leaving."

"Occasionally someone leaves," Ishmael said, and looked down at the

Incredibly Deadly Viper, who gave him a brief hiss. "Some time ago, two women sailed off with this very snake, and a few years later, a man named Thursday left with a few comrades."

"So Thursday is alive," Klaus said, "just like Kit said."

"Yes," Ishmael admitted, "but at my suggestion, Miranda told her daughter that he died in a storm, so she wouldn't worry about the schism that divided her parents."

"That's terrible," I said, remembering the sad look on Friday's face when she talked about how she wished she could have known her father. "She has the right to know who her father is. A family should not keep such horrible secrets."

"Except for those troublemakers," Ishmael went on, ignoring me, "everyone has stayed here. And why shouldn't they? Most of the castaways are orphans, like me, and like you. I know your story, Baudelaires and you as well Miss Murray, from all the newspaper articles, police reports, financial newsletters, telegrams, private correspondence, and fortune cookies that have washed up here. You've been wandering this treacherous world since your story began, and you've never found a place as safe as this one. Why don't you stay? Give up your mechanical inventions and your reading and your cooking. Forget about Count Olaf and V.F.D. Leave your ribbon, and your commonplace book, and your notebook, and your whisk, and your raft library, and lead a simple, safe life on our shores."

"What about Kit?" Violet asked.

"In my experience, the Snickets are as much trouble as the Baudelaires and the Murrays," Ishmael said. "That's why I suggested you leave her on the coastal shelf, so she wouldn't make trouble for the colony. But if you can be convinced to choose a simpler life, I suppose she can, too."

I glanced at the Baudelaires doubtfully. We already knew that Kit wished to go back to the world in order to make sure justice was served, and since we were volunteers, we should be eager to join her. However, I was not sure I could leave the only place that I have ever felt truly safe, even if it was a bit dull. And I was sure the Baudelaires felt the same way.

"Can't we stay here," Klaus asked, "and lead a more complicated life, with the items and documents here in the arboretum?"

"And spices?" Sunny added.

"And the piano?" I added.

"And keep them a secret from the other islanders?" Ishmael said with a frown.

"That's what you're doing," Klaus couldn't help pointing out. "All day long you sit in your chair and make sure the island is safe from the detritus of the world, but then you sneak off to the arboretum on your perfectly healthy feet and write in a commonplace book while snacking on bitter apples. You want everyone to lead a simple, safe life–everyone except yourself."

"No one should lead the life I lead," Ishmael said, with a long, sad tug on his beard. "I've spent countless years cataloging all of the objects that have washed up on these shores and all the stories those objects tell. I've repaired all the documents that the storms have damaged, and taken notes on every detail. I've read more of the world's treacherous history than almost anyone, and as one of my colleagues once said, 'this history is indeed little more than the register of crimes, follies, and misfortunes of mankind.'"

"We want to read this history, no matter how miserable it is," I said.

But Ishmael tugged at his beard again, and shook his head firmly at us.

"Don't you see?" he asked. "I'm not just the island's facilitator. I'm the island's parent. I keep this library far away from the people under my care, so that they will never be disturbed by the world's terrible secrets."

The facilitator reached his robe's pocket and pulled out a small object. I saw that it was an ornate ring, emblazoned with the initial R, and stared at it, quite puzzled.

Ishmael opened the enormous book that sat on his lap, and turned a few pages to read from his notes. "This ring," he said, "once belonged to the Duchess of Winnipeg, who gave it to her daughter, who was also the Duchess of Winnipeg, who gave it to her daughter, and so on and so on and so on. Eventually, the last Duchess of Winnipeg joined V.F.D., and gave it to Kit Snicket's brother. He gave it to your mother, Baudelaires. For reasons I still don't understand, she gave it back to him, and he gave it to Kit, and Kit gave it to your father, who gave it to your mother when they were married. She kept it locked in a wooden box that could only be opened by a key that was kept in a wooden box that could only be opened by a code that Kit Snicket learned from her grandfather. The wooden box turned to ashes in the fire that destroyed the Baudelaire mansion, and Captain Widdershins found the ring in the wreckage only to lose it in a storm at sea, which eventually washed it onto our shores."

"Neiklot?" Sunny asked, which meant "Why are you telling us about this ring?"

"The point of the story isn't the ring," Ishmael said. "It's the fact that you've never seen it until this moment. This ring, with its long secret history, was in your home for years, and your parents never mentioned it. Your parents never told you about the Duchess of Winnipeg, or Captain Widdershins, or the Snicket siblings, or V.F.D. Your parents never told you they'd lived here, or that they were forced to leave, or any other details of their own unfortunate history. They never told you their whole story. Even your parents, Jamie had their secrets that they kept from you."

"That's different," I said, "I was a baby when they were alive. Who's to say they would not have eventually explained everything?" Although I spoke the words firmly, apart of me doubted that it was the truth. My entire life the only mystery was my parents' absence. I never imagined discovering those secrets would only raise a thousand more questions about where I came from.

"Then let us read that book," Klaus said, "so we can find out for ourselves."

Ishmael shook his head. "You don't understand," he said, which I knew upset Klaus. "Your parents didn't tell you these things because they wanted to shelter you, just as this apple tree shelters the items in the arboretum from the island's frequent storms, and just as I shelter the colony from the complicated history of the world. No sensible parent would let their child read even the title of this dreadful, sad chronicle, when they could keep them far from the treachery of the world instead. Now that you've ended up here, don't you want to respect their wishes?" He closed the book again, and rose to his clay feet, gazing at each of us in turn. "Just because your parents have died," he said quietly, "doesn't mean they've failed you. Not if you stay here and lead the life they wanted you to lead."

I frowned as I thought about what he was saying. I suppose it was true that my parents wanted me to be safe, but should being safe mean abandoning the complicated parts of life? Was it even possible for anyone to live a simple life? This island seemed like a safe place, yet even the islanders kept secrets of their own.

"Are you sure this is what both of our parents would have wanted?" Violet asked.

"If they didn't want to keep you safe," Ishmael said, "they would have told you everything, so you could add another chapter to this unfortunate history."

He placed the book on the reading chair, and gave the ring to Violet. "You belong here, Baudelaires, and you as well Miss Murray, on this island and under my care. I'll tell the islanders that you've changed your minds, and that you're abandoning your troublesome past."

"How do they know they'll support you?" I asked.

"Oh, they will, I assure you," Ishmael said. "The life we lead here on the island is better than the treachery of the world. Leave the arboretum with me, children, and you can join us for breakfast."

"And cordial," Klaus said.

"No apples," Sunny said.

Ishmael gave us a last nod, and we followed him up through the gap in the tree's roots, switching the lights off as he went. We found ourselves back in the aboretum, and I glanced back for the last time at the secret space. The Incredibly Deadly Viper was almost invisible as it slithered over Ishmael's commonplace book and then, Ink caught up to us. The sun filtered through the shade of the enormous apple tree, and shone on the gold block letters on the spine of the book. I wondered if those letters had been printed there by my parents and the Baudelaire's parents, or perhaps by the previous writer of the commonplace book, or the writer before that, or the writer before that. I wondered how many storie the oddly titled history contained, and just how many people had looked down at the gold lettering before reading through the previous crimes, follies, and misfortunes of mankind and adding more of their own. I wondered about my own unfortunate history, and that of my parents, and the Baudelaires parents, and all the other castaways who had washed up on these shores, continually adding more and more chapters of history to the enormous volume, _A Series of Unfortunate Events._

* * *

**Review!**

****In response to "Guest":**

**Although the 'A Series of Unfortunate Events' part is coming to a close, it's not technically the end of my fanfic story. Since it's a crossover with Harry Potter, that part will be coming soon and Jamie and the Baudelaire's (mainly Klaus's) story will continue...Your story sounds really awesome! Thanks for the offer, but I don't think I'll have time to write another fanfic on top of this one and my schoolwork. Also, i wouldn't want to take someone else's ideas for a fanfic, besides, you probably have a better vision of the story than I do. However, I highly encourage you to write the fanfic yourself! Thanks very much for the review! :)**


	24. Pandemonium

**New chapter! **

**R&R!**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Pandemonium**

As we left the arboretum with Ishmael and headed back to the island colony, our form of transportation was far from efficient. We were traveling on Ishmael's large wooden sleigh, which he controlled as he sat in his enormous clay chair and the sheep dragged us along. The sheep were very slow, meandering along the path and detouring, lollygagging and ambling, and occasionally they stopped to munch on some wild grass or just breathe in the morning air. Ishmael tried to persuade the sheep to go faster through his facilitator techniques. "I don't want to force you," he kept saying, "but perhaps you sheep could go a bit faster." The sheep would only stare blankly at the facilitator and keep shuffle along.

In addition to the sheep's languor, millions of thoughts were swarming around in my head and it made me grow restless that no action was being taken. I could not imagine there would ever be a successful solution to our hardships. I tried to convince myself that it was best to do as Ishmael suggested, and lead a safe life on the colony, but I could not fathom leaving Kit behind on the coastal shelf or allowing her to return to the world to ensure justice would be served without joining her on her noble errand. I tried to convince myself that I would do what my parents would have wanted and stay on the island, safe from the world's treachery, but I did not believe I would be able to resist the urge to go to the arboretum, or the urge to read the enormous book. I tried to tell myself that I would join with Erewhon and Finn in the mutiny at breakfast the way we had promised, but I knew that threatening the facilitator and his supporters with weapons would only lead to a great schism that would only cause the island misery and despair. Besides, we did not bring any weapons like we had promised.

I also tried to convince myself that I could at least be glad that Count Olaf was not a threat, although I did not quite approve of him being locked up in a cage, and I shuddered at the thought of the Medusoid Mycellium hidden in his dress and the terrible scheme in his head. I also tried to tell myself that everything was alright—that we were safe and would live on the island in peace. But I knew by now that everything was not all right. In fact, everything was completely wrong, and I did not understand how this place that had seemed so safe and peaceful could develop into a place full of chaos, danger, and complexity as soon as we arrived. It seemed inevitable in our sad history that the same pervading darkness followed us everywhere, turning each place into ash and ruin. I thought I could think of a way to end our troubles, but I knew that was not the case.

At last, however, the sheep pulled the sleigh across the white sand of the beach and then through the opening of the enormous tent. The islanders were in the middle of an unpleasant argument. Even with the presence of opiate in their seashells dangling from the waists of all the islanders, they were anything but drowsy and inactive. Alonso was grabbing the arm of Willa, who was shrieking in annoyance while stepping on Dr. Kurtz's foot. Sherman's face was even redder than usual as he threw sand in Mr. Pitcairn's face, and Mr. Pitcairin was trying to bite Brewster's finger. Professor Fletcher was shouting at Ariel, and Ms. Marlow was stomping her feet at Calypso, and Madame Nordoff and Rabbi Bligh seemed ready to begin wrestling on the sand. Byam twirled his mustache at Ferdinand, while Robinson tugged his beard at Larsen and Weyden seemed to tear out her red hair for no reason at all. Jonah and Sadie Bellamy were standing face-to-face arguing, while Friday and Mrs. Caliban were standing back-to-back as if they would never speak to each other again, and all the while Omeros stood near Ishmael's chair with his hands held suspiciously behind his back. While

Ishmael gaped at the islanders in amazement. The Baudelaires and I stepped off the sleigh and walked quickly toward Erewhon and Finn, who were looking at us expectantly.

"Where were you?" Finn said. "We waited as long as we could for you toreturn, but we had to leave your friend behind and begin the mutiny."

"You left Kit out there alone?" Violet said. "You promised you'd stay with her."

"And you promised us weapons," said Erewhon. "Where are they, Baudelaires?"

"We don't have any," Klaus admitted. "Ishmael was at the arboretum."

"Count Olaf was right," Erewhon said. "You failed us, Baudelaires."

"Maybe we did," I said, "but you failed us first and the rest of these islanders with your terrible scheme and manipulation."

"What do you mean, 'Count Olaf was right'?" Violet demanded.

"What do you mean, 'Ishmael was at the arboretum'?" Finn demanded.

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" Erewhon demanded.

"What do you mean, what do you mean, what I mean?" I demanded.

"What you mean what you mean what you mean what I mean?" Sunny demanded.

"What do you mean—?" Erewhon began before I cut her off.

"Enough," I said, getting irritated with them. "Look at all the chaos your clever little plan caused. Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted—to tear apart such a safe and peaceful place?"

"Please, everyone!" Ishmael cried from his clay chair. "I suggest we all take a few sips of cordial and discuss this cordially!"

"I'm tired of drinking cordial," Professor Fletcher said, "and I'm tired of your suggestions, Ishmael!"

"Call me Ish," the facilitator said.

"I'm calling you a bad facilitator!" retorted Calypso.

"Please, everyone!" Ishmael cried again, with a nervous tug at his beard. "What is all this argy-bargy about?"

"I'll tell you what it's about," Alonso said. "I washed up on these shores many years ago, after enduring a terrible storm and a dreadful political scandal."

"So what?" Rabbi Bligh asked. "Eventually, everyone washes up on these shores."

"I wanted to leave my unfortunate history behind," Alonso said, "and live a peaceful life free from trouble. But now there are some colonists talking of mutiny. If we're not careful, this island will become as treacherous as the rest of the world!"

"Mutiny?" Ishmael said in horror. "Who dares talk of mutiny?"

"I dare," Erewhon said. "I'm tired of your facilitation, Ishmael. I washed ashore on this island after living on another island even farther away. I was tired of a peaceful life, and ready for adventure. But whenever anything exciting arrives on this island, you immediately have it thrown into the arboretum!"

"It depends on how you look at it," Ishmael protested. "I don't force anyone to throw anything away."

"If you want an exciting adventure, there's an entire world out there filled with the danger you're looking for," I said to Erewhon in annoyance.

"Ishmael is right!" Ariel cried. "Some of us have had enough adventure for a lifetime! I washed up on these shores after finally escaping from prison, where I had disguised myself as a young man for years! I've stayed here for my own safety, not to participate in more dangerous schemes!"

"Then you should join our mutiny!" Sherman cried. "Ishmael is not to be trusted! We abandoned the Baudelaires and Jamie Murray on the coastal shelf, and now he's brought them back!"

"The Baudelaires and Jamie Murray never should have been abandoned in the first place!" Ms. Marlow cried. "All they wanted to do was help their friend!"

"Their friend is suspicious," claimed Mr. Pitcairn. "She arrived on a raft of books."

"So what?" said Weyden. "I arrived on a raft of books myself."

"But you abandoned them," Professor Fletcher pointed out.

"She did nothing of the sort!" cried Larsen. "You helped her hide them, so you could force those children to read!"

"We wanted to learn to read!" Friday insisted.

"You're reading?" Mrs. Caliban gasped in astonishment.

"You shouldn't be reading!" cried Madame Nordoff.

"Well, you shouldn't be yodeling!" cried Dr. Kurtz.

"You're yodeling?" Rabbi Bligh asked in astonishment. "Maybe we should have a mutiny after all!"

"Yodeling is better than carrying a flashlight!" Jonah cried, pointing at

Finn accusingly.

"Carrying a flashlight is better than hiding a picnic basket!" Sadie cried, pointing at Erewhon.

"Hiding a picnic basket is better than pocketing a whisk!" Erewhon said,

pointing at Sunny.

"These secrets will destroy us!" Ariel said. "Life here is supposed to be simple!"

"There's nothing wrong with a complicated life," said Byam. "I lived a simple life as a sailor for many years, and I was bored to tears until I was shipwrecked."

"Bored to tears?" Friday said in astonishment. "All I want is the simple life my mother and father had together, without arguing or keeping secrets."

"That's enough," Ishmael said quickly. "I suggest that we stop arguing."

"I suggest we continue to argue!" cried Erewhon.

"I suggest we abandon Ishmael and his supporters!" cried Professor Fletcher.

"I suggest we abandon the mutineers!" cried Calypso.

"I suggest better food!" cried another islander.

"I suggest more cordial!" cried another.

"I suggest a more attractive robe!"

"I suggest a proper house instead of a tent!"

"I suggest fresh water!"

"I suggest eating bitter apples!"

"I suggest chopping down the apple tree!"

"I suggest burning up the outrigger!"

"I suggest a talent show!"

"I suggest reading a book!"

"I suggest burning all books!"

"I suggest yodeling!"

"I suggest forbidding yodeling!"

"I suggest a safe place!"

"I suggest a complicated life!"

"I suggest it depends on how you look at it!"

"I suggest justice!"

"I suggest breakfast!"

"I suggest we stay and you leave!"

"I suggest you stay and we leave!"

"I suggest we return to Winnipeg!"

I looked at the Baudelaires in despair as this mutinous schism worked its way through the colony. Seashells hung open at the waists of the islanders, but there was nothing cordial about this mutiny as the islanders turned against one another in fury, even if they were friends, or members of the same family, or shared a history or a secret organization.

I had seen angry crowds before, of course, such as the mob psychology of the citizens in the Village of Fowl Devotees and the blind justice of the trial at the Hotel Denouement, but I had never seen a community divide so suddenly and so completely.

As I watched the schism unfold, I thought of all the other schisms that had ever occurred and what those must have been like, from the schism that divided V.F.D., to the schism that drove both our parents away from the very same island, to all the other schisms in the world's sad history, with every person suggesting something different, and every unfortunate event like a chapter in an enormous book. We watched the terrible argy-bargy and wondered how we could have hoped the island would be a safe place, far from the treachery of the world, when eventually every treachery washed up on its shores, like a castaway tossed by a storm at sea, and divided the people who lived there. The cacophony of the islanders' argument increased more and more, with everyone suggesting something but nobody listening to anyone else's suggestions, until the schism was a deafening roar that was finally broken by the loudest voice of all.

"SILENCE! " bellowed a figure who entered the tent, and the islanders stopped talking at once, and stared in amazement at the person who stood glaring at them in a long dress that bulged at the belly.

"What are you doing here?" gasped someone from the back of the tent. "We abandoned you on the coastal shelf!"

The figure strode into the middle of the tent, and the figure was still in a long dress that bulged at the belly. However, Count Olaf's bulging belly, of course, was the diving helmet containing the Medusoid Mycelium, and his orange and yellow dress I suddenly recognized as the dress Esmé wore on top of the Mortmain Mountains, which was fashioned to look like an enormous fire and it had somehow washed onto the island's shores like everything else. As Olaf paused to give us a particularly wicked smile, I tried to imagine the secret history of Esme's dress, and how it had returned to the our story after all this time.

"You can't abandon me," the villain snarled to the islander. "I'm the king of Olaf-Land."

"This isn't Olaf-Land," Ishmael said, with a stern tug on his beard, "and you're no king, Olaf."

Count Olaf threw back his head and laughed, his tattered dress quivering in mirth. With a sneer, he pointed at Ishmael, who still sat in the chair. "Oh, Ish," he said, his eyes shining bright, "I told you many years ago that I would triumph over you someday, and at last that day has arrived. My associate with the weekday for a name told me that you were still hiding out on this island, and–"

"Thursday," Mrs. Caliban said.

Olaf frowned, and blinked at the freckled woman. "No," he said.

"Monday. She was trying to blackmail an old man who was involved in a political scandal."

"Gonzalo," Alonso said.

Olaf frowned again. "No," he said. "We'd gone bird-watching, this old man and I, when we decided to rob a sealing schooner owned by-"

"Humphrey," Weyden said.

"No," Olaf said with another frown. "There was some argument about his name, actually, as a baby adopted by his orphaned children also bore the same name."

"Bertrand," Omeros said.

"No," Olaf said, and frowned yet another time. "The adoption papers were hidden in the hat of a banker who had been promoted to Vice President in Charge of Orphan Affairs."

"Mr. Poe?" asked Sadie.

"Yes, " Olaf said with a scowl, "although at the time he was better known under his stage name. But I'm not here to discuss the past. I'm here to discuss the future. Your mutineering islanders let me out of this cage,

Ishmael, to force you off the island and crown me as king!"

"King?" Erewhon said. "That wasn't the plan, Olaf."

"If you want to live, old woman," Olaf said rudely, "I suggest that you do whatever I say."

"You're already giving us suggestions?" Brewster said incredulously.

"You're just like Ishmael, although your outfit is prettier."

"Thank you," Count Olaf said, with a wicked smile, "but there's another important difference between me and this foolish facilitator."

"Your tattoo?" Friday guessed.

"No," Count Olaf said, with a frown. "If you were to wash the clay off

Ishmael's feet, you'd see he has the same tattoo as I do."

"Eyeliner?" guessed Madame Nordoff.

"No," Count Olaf said sharply. "The difference is that Ishmael is unarmed. He abandoned his weapons long ago, during the V.F.D. schism, refusing to use violence of any sort. But today, you'll all see how foolish he is." He paused, and ran his filthy hands along his bulging belly before turning to the facilitator, who was taking something from Omeros's hands. "I have the only weapon that can threaten you and your supporters," he bragged. "I'm the king of Olaf-Land, and there's nothing you and your sheep can do about it."

"Don't be so sure about that," Ishmael said, and raised an object in the air so that we could all see. It was the harpoon gun that had washed ashore with Olaf, the Baudelaires, and I, after being used to fire at crows at the Hotel Denouement, and at a self-sustaining hot air mobile home in the Village of Fowl Devotees, and at a sub-sub-librarian. Now, the weapon was adding another chapter to its sinister history, and was aiming directly at Count Olaf.

"I had Omeros keep this weapon handy," Ishmael said, "instead of tossing it in the arboretum, because I thought you might escape from that cage, Count Olaf, just as I escaped from the cage you and Abigail put me in when you set fire to my home."

"I didn't set that fire," Count Olaf said, his eyes shining bright and he glanced briefly in my direction, smirking at my awed expression. "Neither of us did."

I glanced from Count Olaf to Ishmael, in despair. I should have known the reason Ishmael did not like me so much. It was clear that my mother had done something terrible to him, even if she hadn't set the fire. And now, as I watched the two enemies resume their argy-bargy, all I could think about was the countless other times I had stood by helplessly, watching as the world around me crumbled to pieces. I had watched helplessly while Jacques had suffered a horrible death. I had watched helplessly as Count Olaf's associates sent the caravan tumbling down the mountainside with Violet and Klaus inside. I had watched helplessly as Count Olaf got away with countless other villainous acts. It seemed the only time I really helped was by aiding Count Olaf with some of his schemes, sometimes unintentionally. I remembered that feeling of holding that heavy gun in my hands as I threatened an innocent man's life. Perhaps Dewey had not been that innocent after all, but he was noble enough. It made me realize that it did not matter who the gun was aiming at, no one deserved the terrible fate that Dewey or Jacques had suffered. It was the same feeling in my stomach as I witnessed Olaf being locked away in that birdcage.

Watching Ishmael and Olaf, made me realize that some of what Olaf said might be true. With the gun in his hands, Ishmael looked just as menacing as Count Olaf had when he had threatened Dewey's life. They weren't too different after all. I suppose it goes to show that perhaps there really is no such thing as good and bad. No one, not even the noblest person in the world could hold that gun without being corrupted by its power. Even the noblest person in the world would be corrupted by this horrible schism that turns man into monsters. I just don't understand why anyone would want to be apart of such an awful, vicious cycle. So I know that I have to do something this time.

Of course if the harpoon hit Olaf's bulging belly, the Medusoid Mycelium would be exposed to the islanders. I knew if the Medusoid Mycelium were released, we would all perish. I looked from Violet to Klaus to Sunny and back at Klaus again. For months now, it seemed we had been fighting to stay together and each time we had drifted farther and farther apart. I couldn't lose them. No matter how I felt about Klaus…losing them would…I shuddered to even think about what would become of me if I ever lost either of them again. And now as our lives were in jeopardy, I knew I had to do what they had done in the face of evil. I thought of all those times that the Baudelaires had used their skills to save our lives time after time. I thought about when I had threatened Dewey's life with that harpoon. They were so brave when they stood in front of him. I wish I could become like them.

"I've had enough of your lies," Ishmael said, and stood up from his chair. Realizing that the facilitator's feet were not injured after all, the islanders gasped. "I'm going to do what I should have done years ago, Olaf, and slaughter you. I'm going to fire this harpoon gun right into that bulging belly of yours!"

_"No!"_ The Baudelaires and I screamed simultaneously, but our combined voices were drowned out by Count Olaf's villainous laughter.

Ishmael pulled down on the red trigger.

_Click! _

My heart was pounding in my chest and my eyes rested on the shiny harpoon. The adrenaline flooded my veins. Everything that happened in those next few seconds was a blur. I lunged forward. My hands flew out as I pushed the villain out of the way. The harpoon was still in the air, but now it soared towards _me_. In fear, I squeezed my eyes shut. I raised my hands, shakily, my only defense. I opened my eyes and gazed frightfully at the harpoon's almost invisible blur. It stopped abruptly just before my hands and fell to the sandy floor at my feet.

At first, everyone was silent as they looked in awe from me to the harpoon to Count Olaf and back at Ishmael's horrified expression. Even Count Olaf looked a little flustered. But then there was a beat and Olaf broke into laughter again as he shrugged, pulled out the diving helmet and smashed open the window on the ground. My plan to save our lives had miserably failed. I glanced at the Baudelaires in despair, knowing that this may be the last unfortunate event of our history and knowing that I was once again too helpless to save them.

* * *

**Review! :)**

**Also, in response to...**

**_Asoue lover:_ I'm not really going to reveal anything yet lol. You'll have to wait and see! ;)**

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	25. Reach for the Sky

**Here's a new chapter! And the penultimate chapter of The Insidious Island! lol**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Reach for the Sky**

As the glass shattered in the tent, I rose and stared at Ishmael's standing figure. I felt the Medusoid Mycelium drift into my body, each tiny spore felt like a tiny ant walking down my throat. I could not believe that the Medusoid Mycellium had returned. Now its poisonous qualities would effect all of us, not just Sunny. I could not believe such a terrible thing was happening and it was my fault that I could not prevent it from occurring.

"What happened?" Friday cried. "I heard glass breaking!"

"Never mind the breaking glass," Erewhon said. "I feel something in my throat, like a tiny seed!"

"Never mind your seedy throat," Finn said. "I see Ishmael standing up on his own two feet!"

"Never mind Ishmael standing up on his own two feet," Marlow said, "That harpoon mysteriously stopped as soon as Jamie got in the way!"

I could hear Count Olaf cackling from the white sand where he still lay. With one dramatic gesture, he picked up the shattered helmet from the ground and threw it at Ishmael's clay feet. "The sound you heard was the shattering of a diving helmet," he sneered. "The seeds you feel in your throats are the spores of the Medusoid Mycelium, the man standing on his own two feet is the one who has slaughtered you all, and although I can't explain what happened with the harpoon, my henchwoman will certainly be given a special position when I become the King of Olaf Land!"

"The Medusoid Mycelium?" Ishmael repeated in astonishment, as the islanders gasped again. "On these shores? It can't be! I've spent my life trying to keep the island forever safe from that terrible fungus! I should have known Jamie was your associate. It seems Murrays can never change."

"Nothing's safe forever, thank goodness," Count Olaf said, "and you of all people should know that eventually everything washes up on these shores. The Baudelaire and Murray family has finally returned to this island after you threw them off years ago, and they brought the Medusoid Mycelium with them."

Ishmael's eyes widened, and he jumped off the edge of the sleigh to stand and confront us. As his feet landed on the ground, the clay cracked and fell away, and I could see that the facilitator truly did have a tattoo of an eye on his left ankle, just as Count Olaf had said. "You brought the Medusoid Mycelium?" he asked. "You had a deadly fungus with you all this time, and you kept it a secret from us?"

"You're a fine one to talk about keeping secrets!" Alonso said. "Look at your healthy feet, Ishmael! Your dishonesty is the root of the trouble!"

"It's the mutineers who are the root of the trouble!" cried Ariel. "If they hadn't let Count Olaf out of the cage, this never would have happened!"

"It depends on how you look at it," Professor Fletcher said. "In my opinion, all of us are the root of the trouble. If we hadn't put Count Olaf in the cage, he never would have threatened us!"

"We're the root of the trouble because we failed to find the diving helmet," Ferdinand said. "If we'd retrieved it while storm scavenging, the sheep would have dragged it to the arboretum and we would have been safe!"

"Omeros is the root of the trouble," Dr. Kurtz said, pointing at the young boy. "He's the one who gave Ishmael the harpoon gun instead of dumping it in the arboretum!"

"It's Count Olaf who's the root of the trouble!" cried Larsen. "He's the one who brought the fungus into the tent!"

"I'm not the root of the trouble," Count Olaf snarled, and then paused to cough loudly before continuing. "I'm the king of the island!"

"It doesn't matter whether you're king or not," Violet said. "You've breathed in the fungus like everyone else."

"Violet's right," Klaus said. "We don't have time to stand here arguing. 'A single spore has such grim power, That you may die within the hour,'" he said. "If we don't quit our fighting and work together, we'll all end up dead."

The tent was filled with ululation.

"Dead?" Madame Nordoff shrieked. "Nobody said the fungus was deadly! I thought we were merely being threatened with forbidden food!"

"I didn't stay on this island to die!" cried Ms. Marlow. "I could have died at home!"

"Nobody is going to die," Ishmael announced to the crowd.

"It depends on how you look at it," Rabbi Bligh said. "Eventually we're all going to die."

"Not if you follow my suggestions," Ishmael insisted. "Now first, I suggest that everyone take a nice, long drink from their seashells. The cordialwill chase the fungus from your throats."

"No, it won't!" Violet cried. "Fermented coconut milk has no effect on the

Medusoid Mycelium!"

"That may be so," Ishmael said, "but at least we'll all feel a bit calmer."

"You mean drowsy and inactive," Klaus corrected. "The cordial is an opiate."

"There's nothing wrong with cordiality," Ishmael said. "I suggest we all spend a few minutes discussing our situation in a cordial manner. We can decide what the root of the problem is, and come up with a solution at our leisure."

"That does sound reasonable," Calypso admitted.

"Trahison des clercs!" Sunny cried, which meant "You're forgetting about the quick acting poison in the fungus!"

"Sunny's right," Klaus said. "We need to find a solution now, not sit around talking about it over beverages!"

"The solution is in the arboretum," Violet said, "and in the secret space under the roots of the apple tree."

"Secret space?" Sherman said. "What secret space?"

"There's a library down there," Klaus said, as the crowd murmured in surprise, "cataloging all of the objects that have washed ashore and all the stories those objects tell."

"And kitchen," Sunny added. "Maybe horseradish."

"Horseradish is the one way to dilute the poison," Violet explained, and recited the rest of the poem we had learned when Sunny had been poisoned. "Is dilution simple? But of course, Just one small dose of root of horse." She looked around the tent at the frightened faces of the islanders. "The kitchen beneath the apple tree might have horseradish," she said. "We can save ourselves if we hurry."

"They're lying," Ishmael said. "There's nothing in the arboretum but junk, and there's nothing underneath the tree but dirt. The Baudelaires and Jamie are trying to trick you."

"We're not trying to trick anyone," Klaus said. "We're trying to save everyone."

"The Baudelaires and Jamie knew the Medusoid Mycelium was here," Ishmael pointed out, "and they never told us. You can't trust them, but you can trust me, and I suggest we all sit and sip our cordials."

"Razoo," Sunny said, which meant, "You're the one not to be trusted," but rather than translate, Violet and Klaus stepped closer to Ishmael so they could speak to him in relative privacy.

"Why are you doing this?" I heard Violet ask. "If you just sit here and drink cordial, you'll be doomed."

"We've all breathed in the poison," Klaus said. "We're all in the same boat."

Ishmael raised his eyebrows, and gave the children a grim smile. "We'll see about that," he said. "Now get out of my tent."

"Hightail it," Sunny said, which meant "We'd better hurry."

Violet and Klaus nodded in agreement and they began to hurry for the exit, but they stopped when they realized I was not with them.

"Aren't you coming Jane?" Violet asked. "We have to hurry if we're going to find the antidote."

I shook my head. "You go on without me," I said.

"Jane—" Klaus started.

"Don't you get it?" I said. "I'm the root of all the trouble. We would never even be on this island if I hadn't killed Dewey Denouement. Things could have turned out differently. Maybe Esmé wouldn't have turned away from me. Maybe we would be somewhere safe like at the last safe place, discovering the answers to questions we've been asking for months now. Maybe Count Olaf would have been brought to justice as well as all of those other villains."

"Noroot," Sunny said firmly meaning, "We're the root of the trouble. You never would have done those things if we believed you about Madame Lulu."

"That wouldn't have mattered," I said, "You didn't make me do all of those terrible things. You tried to stop me."

"None of that matters right now, Jane," Klaus said, "Your life is what matters."

"I'm a terrible person, Klaus," I said, "it's my fault Dewey died. It's my fault that Jacques Snicket died. It's my fault that Madame Lulu is dead. It's even my fault that the bald man is dead. Esmé was right to leave me when she did."

"Please, Jane," Klaus begged, "come with us."

I shook my head, sadly. Tears poured from my eyes.

"I don't deserve it," I said, "I don't deserve to live like you three do. I killed a man. How can I live with myself knowing what I did? I just want the guilt to go away. It's like that saying 'an eye for an eye.'"

"'An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind,'" Klaus pointed out.

"I don't deserve to live, Klaus," I whispered. "I've done so many terrible things."

"So have I," Klaus said sadly. "But that doesn't matter. Being a villain isn't our destiny."

"Then what is?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

"When are you going to realize?" I cried when he didn't speak. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but he had to know the truth, "I don't _belong_ with you three. I don't belong anywhere. It's always been that way. Wherever we went these past months, I've always ended up feeling like I'm the odd ball. I mean look at that ring. Its like a family heirloom to you. I'm not a brilliant inventor and I'm not as good at being a researcher. I don't have four sharp teeth to bite things and I can barely cook. I'm useless. All I'm good at is getting kidnapped. You're better off without me."

"No you're not useless," Klaus said, "You're—"

"I'm not the person I used to be Klaus," I said, "Somewhere along the way I lost a part of me and after everything that's happened, I'm not sure if I'll be able to find it again. I've already lost everything important to me."

"You haven't lost us," Klaus said firmly, repeating the words he had said a few days ago.

I glanced at him and tried to pretend his words didn't have an affect on me.

"You don't mean that," I said.

"I do," Klaus insisted. "I mean every word."

I looked away. I wasn't sure what to say.

"Klaus we have to go," Violet said as she coughed. "We need to find the antidote."

Klaus looked from me to Violet. Then he nodded and looked back to me. "I'm going to come back for you, Jane," he said. "If you won't come with us, then I'll bring it to you. I'm not going to let you die. I'm not going to let you go this time."

The Baudelaires headed for the tent's exit. Klaus turned to give me one last pleading look before they were gone. I felt tears in my eyes as I too rushed out of the tent. I didn't go after them. I just made my way out to the sandy shore, sinking down onto the sand as I coughed again. I heard a strange noise coming from behind me and saw that it was coming from Count Olaf. In the midst of everything, he had made his way out onto the beach. The sound I heard was him laughing in the midst of a coughing fit. I got up, wanting to get as far away as I could from him.

"What are you doing out here?" he said. "I thought you went with the Baudelaire brats to find a _cure_." He laughed wickedly, collapsing onto the sand as he did.

I coughed some more. "They went without me," I said.

"They abandoned you _again_?" Olaf asked.

"No," I said, "I told them to go without me."

"Why would you do that?" Olaf said with another laugh, which caused him to cough some more.

"You probably wouldn't understand," I said, "but I just don't deserve to keep living. I killed a man."

"Who?" Olaf asked.

"Dewey Denouement," I said softly. "It's my fault he's dead. Well it's also yours but I didn't stop it when I had the chance."

"You really are like your mother," Olaf said with a chuckle. "The first time your mother killed a man she swore she'd never do it again." He laughed mockingly. "Of course, she quickly broke that promise. Once you've done something that villainous, it's almost impossible to turn back."

His words filled me with despair. I feared that I would do it again. After all, first I had almost decided to kill Madame Lulu, and then, with Dewey I was successful even if it was an indirect killing. What if my villainous deed only spiraled downward until I was as terrible as the man laughing wickedly beside me? Also, there was nothing out there for me. The Baudelaires had each other, at least. All I had was pain, misery, and loneliness. And now, the Medusoid Mycelium would probably kill us all.

"I have nothing left to lose," I whispered. "Nothing has ever really been mine to lose to begin with. I already lost most of my family before I even knew they existed. "

"I suppose you're not so different from me," Count Olaf managed as he burst into more laughter. "Neither of us have anything to live for."

I didn't like to think of myself as being anything like Count Olaf. But maybe he was right. Maybe I was more like him than I wanted to believe. It seemed no matter where I went or how many times I tried to escape, I always wound up back in Count Olaf's clutches or as one of his henchpeople, or in this case, sitting next to him. I'd always be the odd ball. It seemed any one or any thing I ever touched was destroyed in some way or another. Even Esmé perished because I tried to reach out to her. I couldn't even save her, either. Or Jacques Snicket for that matter. I was too weak.

My hand slid into my robe's pocket, searching for my notebook. I held onto my notebook even though I had chosen a simple life while in the arboretum. I was glad I did. I wanted to leave the Baudelaires a note in case they got to me when it was too late. But I pulled out Klaus' dark blue notebook instead. I had also held onto his notebook. I remember him asking me to read it. I opened the notebook and began to read it.

His journal was not as detailed as mine since he only had a few days to complete it. It appeared he focused mostly on the parts that were important to him. I read about the first time we met and how he began to crush on me that night he cheered me up after Stephano threatened us. I read about his determination to rescue me during Hurricane Herman and was amazed at his courage. I read numerous times at the New York Boarding School where his crush grew. I was also saddened at the thought that Klaus had tried to ask me to the dance and I wasn't paying attention. I couldn't imagine how hurt he must have been when I agreed to go with Connor. Suddenly I felt horribly guilty for being angry with him over Fiona. Sure, maybe I never kissed Connor, but it didn't mean it hurt him any less. I continued reading about how upset he was when Count Olaf, or Alfonso at the time, kidnapped me and how happy he had been to see me in Prufrock Prep's cafeteria. I smiled sadly as I read about our stay at 667 Dark Avenue when I was forced to stay behind with Esmé Squalor and Gunther. I sobbed when I read about how devastated he had been when he saw me in that cage and later on when I was gone. I read about his version of the night we sat in the unfinished wing of the hospital and how he was comforted by my presence despite our horrible circumstances. I read about how happy he had been to see me on Mount Fraught and how he wanted to tell me then and there how he felt. I cautiously read about his first encounter with Fiona and how betrayed he was when he thought I had murdered Madame Lulu. I read about his kiss with Fiona and how he had secretly wished it had been me.

When I finished reading everything he had written, I had tears in my eyes and felt tremendously guilty. Motivated by a strange impulse, I pulled out my own journal and opened it to some of my best and worst memories with Klaus during our stay at the New York Boarding School:

As I reached the dorm, I noticed someone sitting at the bench outside. It was Klaus. He looked up from the book he was reading and smiled. I plopped down beside him.

"Hi," I said, miserably.

"What's wrong?" Klaus asked. He realized what he just said and rephrased it. "What happened at the office?"

"Mr. Lance expelled me," I admitted, "Mr. Poe showed up and they started talking about my situation. Then Mr. Lance concluded that I wasn't welcome here anymore."

Klaus frowned. "Well if they're going to kick you out of here then tell them we're coming with you," he said, firmly.

"Klaus…" I faltered, "you can't come. Don't make me be the reason why you're unhappy."

"Are you going to be happy if you leave?" Klaus asked.

I shrugged. "I don't mind leaving this school," I admitted, "but I do mind leaving you and your siblings."

"So it's settled," Klaus said, "we'll come with you."

"They wouldn't allow it," I disapproved, "but thanks anyways."

"It's not so bad," Klaus said, "besides, Christmas is next week and isn't the holiday about being with family?"

"Yes," I admitted, "which is exactly why you three should stay here. I'm not family to any of you."

"You're close enough, Jane," Klaus said, "Family doesn't mean you're related. It just means a group of people who care a lot about each other and work as a unit."

"I think you read too much," I muttered, though it still brought a tear to my eyes at the thought. Family was the one thing I never had and have been trying to find for a long time. Klaus was right as usual. I wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug. "But I like you anyways."

"See?" Klaus said, brushing a strand of hair back and tucking it behind my ear. "Maybe that's the difference between us and Count Olaf," Klaus continued thoughtfully, "I think the reason why we've been able to survive him for so long is because we had each other. And we have been like a family. Count Olaf doesn't have that."

I sighed. "I should have realized that earlier," I muttered, "maybe things would be different. Maybe we would've stayed together."

"Don't be silly, Jane," Klaus said, "we all make mistakes and like a family we're going to endure the outcome together whatever it costs."

"I still think you read too much," I muttered again, "besides, I don't even celebrate Christmas."

"Hanukah?" Klaus asked.

"No," I said, "I don't mean it like that, I mean, I like all of the Christmas things such as the songs and the movies like 'Frosty the Snowman' it's just that…well…I never really believed in Santa Clause. When I was really young I did but all I ever got was a candy cane and no miracles. But maybe I'm complaining…I did end up leaving that place eventually which was what I had been wishing for. And I also found a 'family'. But now it's going to be taken away from me again and I'm scared of losing you all."

Klaus placed an arm around my shoulders. "I'll make sure you have a nice holiday this year," he said, "and you're not leaving without us so stop worrying. I know last time it might have been hard to leave since you barely knew anything else but remember what we've been saying. This time when you leave, you won't be alone."

"I hope so," I whispered, though I knew in my heart that could never happen.

* * *

I felt tears come to my eyes as I remembered the first time I felt like the Baudelaires were my family. Maybe I had lost most of my family in some way. But Klaus was right…I still had them—the Baudelaires. They were my family. I turned a few pages and reached the Company Show:

"Hi everyone," Klaus began, sounding nervous. He cleared his throat. "I've, um chosen this song for a special reason. This is dedicated to someone who's become closer to me over these past few months. If it wasn't for her, I'd never have the courage to do this."

Alfonso stood in front of me, blocking my view.

"Let's go, now," he demanded, "I'm not waiting for bookworm to sing his stupid song."

"It's not stupid," I argued, stepping forward and pushing past him to see.

"…Jane Rumary is her name and I hope she's listening."

He began to play a song that sounded nothing like Desperado, which is what I was expecting to hear.

_"Lying beside you, here in the dark_

_Feeling your heart beat with mine_

_Softly you whisper, you're so sincere_

_How could our love be so blind?"_

I felt breathless all of the sudden and butterflies swarmed in my stomach but I wasn't sure why.

_"We sailed on together_

_We drifted apart_

_And here you are by my side"_

"It's time to go," Alfonso said, growing angrier. He grabbed my arm and began steering me towards the door. I tried to resist.

"Let go," I cried, "I need to see this." I tried desperately to escape, but it was no use and no one else was around to stop it. My mind was numb at the moment, trying to fully understand the song, and it was hard to concentrate.

Alfonso dragged me out the doors to the backstage hallway that was a way of exiting for the performers. I could still sort of hear Klaus but it was muffled slightly and I couldn't make out some of the words.

_"So now I come to you, with open arms_

_Nothing to hide, believe what I say_

_So here I am with open arms_

_Hoping you'll see what your love means to me_

_Open arms "_

We were in the foyer outside of the auditorium now. I kept struggling to free myself as Alfonso dragged me to the exit.

"No!" I cried, "Let me go! I need to listen!"

"Your boyfriend's little love song isn't important right now," Alfonso said, irritated, "we're leaving whether you want to or not. I'm your father now and you'll do as I say."

But I wasn't listening to Alfonso. Well, I had been but I just zoned out after a bit. My mind was still frozen and I was feeling breathless again. But this time…I understood why.

"…Love…song?" I asked in a whisper, freezing to the spot. My heart thumped louder than I'd ever heard it.

"Well, of course," Alfonso said, sounding aggravated. He paused in dragging me to the front doors, "Why else would he sing this song?"

I felt like I'd been hit by a ton of bricks. Love. '_He liked me!'_ my mind screamed.

And before I could think, I had shoved past Alfonso and raced towards the doors of the auditorium not caring what kind of trouble I would get in later. I swung open the doors and froze in the back of the center aisle as the boy I liked more than any other sang to me. _Me!_

_"So now I come to you, with open arms_

_Nothing to hide, believe what I say_

_So here I am with open arms_

_Hoping you'll see what your love means to me_

_Open arms."_

I was so stunned that I couldn't stop the hands that grabbed me and dragged me away from the auditorium. Not even when Alfonso dragged me outside into the cold night did my look of utter shock and realization fade. I don't know why I was acting like this but it was like I had been awakened from a deep sleep to something that no thousand words could describe.

* * *

I frowned to myself. I was such a terrible person. The entire time he had tried to tell me how he felt yet something always seemed to get in the way. How could I have treated Klaus that way at our boarding school? I should have been honest with him from the start. I should have trusted that his feelings were real and not been afraid to confess. With a heavy heart I turned a few pages and continued to read:

"Keep up," Olaf growled as he pulled me along, "you're slowing me down."

I didn't say anything but tried to keep up. His long strides made it difficult to.

"No!" I heard Klaus cry in despair from behind us, "Jane!"

I whipped my head around. Klaus was running, trying to catch up to us. Mr. Poe shouted useless warnings for Klaus and Count Olaf to stop.

"Remember our deal," Olaf warned.

Klaus sped up and almost reached us but we were almost to the gates. Tears brimmed my eyes, knowing that this was the end of the small amount of happiness I had.

We reached the car and the driver's seat door was already open. A man opened the door to the backseat of the car. He had hooks for hands and looked like my math teacher. I realized he must have been disguised as Mr. LaFont. No wonder he had been such a bad teacher. The hook-handed man got into the passenger seat.

We reached the car at the same time Klaus caught up to us. As Olaf started to shove me into the backseat, Klaus grabbed my arm and started to pull me out.

"No!" I cried when Count Olaf was about to hurt Klaus.

"Get the boy out of my way!" he snarled.

"Let go, Klaus," I demanded.

He looked at me like I was crazy. Olaf kept trying to shove me inside.

Klaus shook his head. "Never," he said, firmly.

Olaf was still trying to push me in.

"Wait," I said, "let go of me for a second."

"I'm not falling for that," Count Olaf said.

"I can deal with this," I insisted. Olaf reluctantly let me go and I stepped away to Klaus.

"Why are you doing this?" he said, sounding broken as tears slid down his cheeks, "What difference would you going into his clutches make?"

"He promised to leave you alone," I managed through my own tears, "He said if I don't, he'll hurt you. So I have to go."

"N-no," Klaus disagreed, "no, no you don't." He pulled me into a hug, "you can't leave me here, Jane. I-I won't let you."

"I don't want to leave," I sobbed, "but you…you can't be in danger anymore. I have to go. I can't hurt you anymore."

Klaus pulled me in tighter. "I can't leave you," he sobbed, "I can't let him take away another person I care about. I almost didn't get a chance to say g-goodbye…again."

I sniffled and we were both silent as we sobbed in each other's arms.

"Hurry up, orphan," Count Olaf complained, growing impatient.

I pulled back and took Klaus' face in my hands.

"Sometimes life doesn't go the way you want it to," I whispered, "and sometimes you can't fight it. You just have to hold on," I sobbed, "Promise me you'll be strong. But if I don't go…if I stay here, your life will be in danger for as long as Olaf is still alive. He won't leave you alone. So you have to let me go Klaus."

"No don't say that," Klaus said, weeping, "I don't care about that as long as you're safe. I can't let you go like that. Remember back at Aunt Josephine's when you almost fell?"

I nodded. "I could never forget it."

"You told me to never let you go," Klaus pointed out, "that's what you said to me and I promised you I would never let you go. So that's what I'm doing. I'm not going to break my promise…I'm never going to let you go."

"You have to," I whispered, I sniffled, "it's the only way."

"I don't want to lose you," Klaus said, in a small voice, "not now. Not ever."

"You can't hold on to me forever," I said, "after all, nothing does last forever."

"I won't let go," he said again.

"Klaus, if I leave I need you to know something," I said, "I-"

"You're not going anywhere," Klaus said, firmly.

"Goodbye, Klaus," I whispered, kissing him on his wet cheek. I stepped back towards the car.

"No, no," Klaus kept saying, shaking his head. He reached for my hand again.

Olaf growled and despite my protest, he grabbed Klaus by the shirt and shoved him onto the ground. Olaf pushed me inside the car before getting into the driver's seat. The car was already running so he started for the exit. I looked out the window and saw Klaus running after the car as we turned the corner. I watched Klaus stand there looking at me through the back window. Tears stained his cheeks and it broke my heart. Tears leaked from my own eyes and I watched until he disappeared completely out of my sight. Out of my life.

* * *

I stared at the page, and suddenly it was as if my entire life was flashing before my eyes. I was brought back to the moment Klaus had rescued me from falling to my death during Hurricane Herman. I could feel the despair I had felt as Count Olaf took me away from the Baudelaires to be in his clutches. I could remember the fear I felt when I found myself trapped at the bottom of the elevator shaft and the hope that had filled me when Klaus had arrived to try to save me. Of course, a warm, fuzzy feeling filled my gut as I recalled the night Klaus and I spent in the unfinished half of Heimlich Hospital. I remembered the grief that had filled me when I thought Klaus and Violet were dead and the pure joy that consumed me when I saw that Klaus was okay. I remembered all the happy memories we shared from the New York Boarding School and I could feel a fluttering in my stomach. It was if I had been awakened from a deep sleep. I was wrong. Olaf was wrong. Maybe I lost a lot of people in my life, but no matter what, I still had the Baudelaires, especially Klaus. And that thought made me forget all of my anger and fear over Klaus and whether I could trust him again. Also reading about his performance at Company reminded me of how much he meant to me. I knew him. I _knew _Klaus. He was my best friend and…I loved everything about him. I thought of my parents, Faith, Jacques Snicket, and Esmé—each one of them had been taken from me. I couldn't let the same happen to the Baudelaires. They were my family and even if I were going to die today, it should be with them. They were my home. I cared about them more than anything in this world. I would do anything for them.

Suddenly, Klaus' journal slipped out of my hands and I noticed he had written something that looked like a poem. I realized that it might be a song:

"_Watch you waste away_

_You were born to shine but left behind_

_Slowly fade to grey_

_Yet, you say you are fine but I fear you are blind_

_How could you believe that you done wrong_

_You don't believe in yourself_

_So reach for the sky,_

_I would pick you up if I could_

_Open your eyes,_

_I would pick you up if I could_

_Listen to the sound_

_Of your days passing by while you live a lie_

_Watch you turn around_

_Watch you say "Goodbye" while there's no reply_

_How could you believe that your not strong_

_You don't believe anything_

_So reach for the sky,_

_I would pick you up if I could_

_Open your eyes,_

_I would pick you up if I could_

_Then I saw your face, you were left alone_

_But you're not alone, _

_you're not alone, _

_you're not alone_

_Reach __for the sky_

_I would pick you up if I could,_

_Open your eyes, I would pick you up If I could_

_You're not alone,_

_You're not alone,_

_You're not alone,_

_You're not alone,_

_You're not alone..."_

"What am I doing?" I whispered to myself, which caused me to cough. I looked from the book in my hands to the man chortling away. Did I really want to end up like Olaf? Even if he managed to achieve his goal of getting our money, he'd always be alone. "You're wrong," I said, shaking my head as I turned back to Olaf. "I do have something to live for."

Olaf raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?" he asked.

"My family," I said.

Olaf laughed. "All of your family is dead," he said.

I shook my head. "No," I said, "Not everyone."

However, his words reminded me of the deadly poison still inside us. I knew I had to save the Baudelaires. That idea was enough to send me running—running for my life.

I spent the first ten years of my life as an orphan—lonely and miserable. I had been waiting for something—anything to come and save me from such a horrible fate. I had wanted a fresh start or some kind of adventure. And then the Baudelaires came along and changed everything. Maybe I was still a miserable orphan. But I had three amazing friends. I still have the Baudelaires. I can't give that up. Not now. Not ever. They were my family now and I had to save them.

Suddenly, it didn't matter that Klaus had kissed Fiona or accused me of something I didn't do. Because I _knew_ Klaus. I knew the person he was before that. I knew him as my best friend. So why couldn't I trust him?

I ran up and over the brae, but I had to stop a few times to cough roughly. I could feel myself getting weaker and weaker, but I kept running. I had to keep moving. It was as if I were in one of those dreams where you're running as fast as you can to get somewhere, yet no matter how fast or how hard you run, that destination is still far beyond your reach.

I felt my head beginning to spin and I breathed heavily. I couldn't bear it anymore and I had to stop. My hands reached for my throat and I tried desperately to breathe. I knew I only had so much time left. I looked ahead and I could see the tree, with its enormous trunk and the apples growing from its branches. I kept moving. Slower now that it was getting harder to breathe. But I was so close—I could still make it, just a little farther…

"Klaus!" I cried, feeling the mushrooms as they grew in my throat. "Klaus!"

What if I was too late? What if the mushrooms had already done their damage? I couldn't fathom the idea. No. The Baudelaires couldn't die. Maybe I wasn't strong enough to save Jacques. Maybe I was too weak to save Esmé. But I wouldn't lose the Baudelaires. I couldn't. I couldn't live with that guilt. I couldn't live without them.

"Jane!" I heard his voice call. It was raspy and I could hear him break off into a wheezing cough. I couldn't see him. The roots blocked them from view, but I could tell they were just as weak as I was. "The apples!" I heard him cry desperately. "It's the apples!

Panicking, I surged forward, as fast as my legs could carry me, despite the pain it caused me. Tears streamed down my face because I knew I would be too late. All I kept hearing was Olaf's words. "You're too weak." Or "You'll have nothing." I could almost see the look of horror on Dewey Denouement's face as the harpoon tore through his chest. I could still smell the smoky air as those flames engulfed Jerome's comprehensive history of injustice. I could still hear my own cries as the elevator doors slammed shut on Esmé, separating us so that I could never know if I would ever see her again. I could almost taste that despair and guilt as the Baudelaires and I had gazed over the rooftop, as the world we once believed in went up in flames. But then…there was a change and I was standing in the barren landscape of Paltryville before those menacing gates that had towered over me like a sinister shadow, forever reminding me of how small I was. Too _small._ Too _weak._ _Nothing. _

I grew faint and lightheaded. Suddenly, the large tree morphed into a giant spider. It's mouth open as it prepared to prey on me. But I had to keep running towards it. A shiny, red apple hung over its head. I had to reach it. The illusion changed. I was at the tree. Reaching for the apples. But everytime I grasped one of the hard, red fruits, it seemed to melt in my hands until there was a giant red pool—_blood_ red. Suddenly, I was back in the Village of Fowl Devotees jail cell. Count Olaf lunged for Jacques with the needle. I could hear myself screaming in pain. Jacques' eyes rolled back in pain, turning them crimson. There was blood—blood everywhere. _"Help!"_ I screamed. "_Please! Make it stop!_"

"_Jane!"_ Jacques called to me in pain and horror. _"Jane!"_ But I was trapped behind the bars and I couldn't answer his cries. I couldn't. I couldn't. There was so much blood.

"_I'm sorry!"_ I sobbed._ "I'm so sorry!"_

I sank to my knees.

I was beginning to fall through. I was falling. With a last burst of strength, I forced my hand back up, clasping onto the red apple. My vision was blurred and hazy so I couldn't tell the difference between reality and illusion. But I did see the long, black, sewer-pipe sized snake as it presented the apple to my yearning hands.

The last thing I remembered was staring into the lucid dark eyes of the snake and then, those eyes changed into a thousand eyes all around me, threatening to collapse on me so that I couldn't escape. They crushed me against the earth, and I knew they were going to win. Then, it was dark and with a final sigh, I felt a small sense of release.

* * *

**Review! :)**

**In response to Asouelover and Asouewizard: Your story is great so far! Keep up the good work! :)**

**The song is _Reach for the Sk_y by Secondhand Serenade! It's such a cute song!**


	26. Never Say Never

**FINALLYI Chapter Thirteen****! **

**Sorry for the delay, I would never abandon this story :) I've just been so busy since well last week was my birthday and then I had SATs and tomorrow I have an AP English test sooo yeah. Also I wanted to take more time with this chapter since it's sort of the last one of ASOUE and it's a little bittersweet that this part of my fic is ending.**

**Anyways...ENJOY! :)**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Never Say Never**

The sound of waves crashing against the shore resonated in my ears. The salty aroma wafted in my nose, and I breathed in a sigh of pure delight. Soft, warm sand lay beneath me like an enormous blanket and the sun's rays were beating hot air against my skin. The breeze was subtle and cool against my neck, playing with a few strands of my hair. I probably could have lain on this remote beach for eternity—full of happiness and full of a sense of peace. No one could touch me here. No one could hurt me. All the pain I had ever suffered seemed to cease.

"Jamie," a voice seemed to whisper to me as if carried by the wind.

My eyes shot open at the soft voice. I had to squint in the bright sunlight and rubbed my eyes until they adjusted to the brightness.

"Jamie," the voice whispered again. "Jamie!"

I looked up in curiosity and discovered a woman standing not too far away. She wore a dress as white as the sand beneath her feet. As I looked down, I noticed I wore an identical dress. The woman's hair was the same color as mine—long, flowing, and beautiful. I met her gaze, finding myself staring into eyes as blue as the sky—eyes not too different from my own.

Not too far behind the woman was a man with light brown hair and hazel-brown eyes. He came over to put his arm around the woman and they gazed at me expectantly. Like a ton of bricks, it hit me. My heart skipped a beat and I stared in awe at the pair standing before me. Could this be real? Could it really be…?

I sat up, rubbing my eyes again and blinking over and over again. They were still there.

"Jamie," the woman said, coming over to kneel beside me as the man came to stand just behind her. They never let go of each other's hands, and I could see, as they looked at each other, the love reflected in their lovely eyes. "We found you."

I reached out my hands tentatively, gently touching my mother's cheek. Her hand closed over mine. They were really there—real, living, breathing people. I could touch them and they didn't disappear.

"We have been looking everywhere for you…" the man trailed off. "Don't you recognize us?"

I nodded, speechless.

"You're my mom," I managed after a moment. "And you're my dad."

As my mother gazed at me, her eyes were filling with tears, and then, she took my face in her soft, warm hands. I gazed back into her blue eyes. They both were smiling brilliantly, causing my heart to soar.

Suddenly, I couldn't take it anymore and I launched myself into my mother's arms. My father leaned down, his arms wrapping around both my mother and I. I found myself begin to weep. At first, I tried to make myself stop crying—it would ruin the moment. But then, my mother placed a hand gently on the back of my head, and my parents crooned softly to me that everything was okay and that I was safe. And then, it did not matter. Their words were enough to make it all okay. It was true. I was safe, and the happiest I've ever been. I absorbed everything about them—their smell, their faces, their smiles…The only people that were missing were Esmé, Jacques, Faith, and the Baudelaires, of course. But at the moment, this would due. I thought of my five year old self and how I had imagined the moment I would see my parents again. I never wanted it to end.

"Oh, Jamie," my mother said, her voice echoing her grief. "We've missed you so much."

"I've been waiting for you to come all my life," I said through a sob, "and now you're finally here."

"We have always been at your side," my father said. "Even at the darkest times."

I pulled away slightly as he spoke. Looking from my mother to my father in concern.

"What happened to you?" I said. "What happened to our family? Why is everyone dead?"

"Shh," my mother said, putting a hand on my head. "Don't fret, sweetheart. Sometimes in life you lose people and it's hard to make sense of it sometimes. But you have to know that they're at peace and watching over you as well. Besides, you still have family left."

"The Baudelaires," I said with a nod. "But I still don't understand. What happened to you? Who did this to our family? Why did you abandon me so many years ago?"

"It doesn't matter what happened to us," my father said. "I know you may not understand why we left you, but we've always done our best to protect you. There are some secrets too terrible for anyone to know. If we told you, you would be in danger."

"Was it another fire?" I asked almost in a whisper, remembering that day my mother had run to me screaming my name. I recalled looking behind her to see something vibrant and orange as if it was some kind of fiery monster. "I remember there was a fire. And mother, you were calling for me."

My mother's face contorted with an expression of pain as she remembered that day, but in an instant the emotion was gone.

"Your father is right, darling," my mother said, "There are some things that you are much too young to bear."

"I don't care about the consequences," I said, "I want to know who did this. I want to know who was responsible for breaking my heart. I want to know why you never came back for me! Why did you leave me? Do you understand all the hell I've been through my entire life? I want to know why every year at Parents' Day; I stood at the bottom of the Entrance stairs just scanning the sea of children reuniting with their parents to see if I could find mine! I waited for you, but you never came! It's not fair. It's just not fair!" I lowered my head into my hands and began to sob again.

My father gently pulled my head close to him so I could sob into his chest. I felt my mother's arms around me.

"Shh," my mother crooned again.

I pulled away to look up at them apologetically. "I'm sorry," I said, feeling guilty about my outburst. "I know it's not your fault. It's just been so hard to live everyday without you. It makes me angry knowing that someone is responsible for all the misery we've endured."

"We know, dear," my mother said. "But we can't afford to put your life in danger."

"I'm already in danger," I said. "I've made some terrible mistakes because of it."

My parents nodded. "It's difficult to make the right choices when everyone around you does wrong," my father said, "But that's what separates the good from the bad. Courage to do the right thing. I know you have it in you, Jamie. You've already proven that to us."

"I'm not brave," I said, "You should be disappointed with me after all the horrible things I did. I know I am. I tried to push Madame Lulu into that lion pit. I became one of Count Olaf's henchpeople. I killed a man."

My mother placed a hand on my head. "I've seen my fair share of noble people and villainous people. _You _are not one of them, Jamie. Don't focus on the bad things you've done. You have more good in you than you know. And that good will far outweigh the mistakes you make. I've made mistakes too, sweetheart. But you're better than I ever was. Even without our care, you've grown into a beautiful, brave young girl. We're far from disappointed in you. We love you Jamie."

I looked from my mother to my father, with tears welling in my eyes. They weren't ashamed of me or anything. My mother leaned down to kiss my forehead gently and brushed away my tears with her thumb. I smiled as my heart filled with warmth. They truly did care about me. They loved me. And that's more than I could have wished for.

"Well all I care about is being with you," I said, "As long as we're together as a family then I'll be safe and happier than I've ever been. I love you too."

My parents glanced at each other briefly, looking sad suddenly.

"What's wrong?" I asked with a frown. I couldn't stand seeing them look so sad. I wanted to do something to make them happy again.

"Come with us, darling," my mother said gently, "There's something we need to show you."

My mother held out her hand and I took it, eagerly.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Come," my father insisted, placing a hand on my back to gently push me along.

They led me down the beach. It was pretty much deserted. I walked with them around a slight bend in the beach. And then, I saw them—the Baudelaires. They were huddled together, gazing down at a body. I couldn't identify it at first. Sunny was holding a basket full of apples. They must have been able to dilute the Medusoid Mycellium in their own bodies. I looked to the sea where I spotted the raft in which Kit Snicket still lay. Also at sea were the islanders who were pushing the outrigger farther into the flooding coastal shelf. Ishmael was sitting on his throne, watching the Baudelaires. The islanders were still coughing, all except Ishmael. I glanced to the right where Count Olaf was leaning against a tree and I could hear his constant cackling, his cackles turning into coughs. The sight of Count Olaf and the Baudelaires, made me glance worriedly up at my parents, afraid that they would disappear. With relief, I found that they were still at my side. As I looked around at all the chaos, I realized that I wasn't afraid anymore of what would become of us. Now that my parents were here, I knew the Baudelaires would be all right. We would all be safe. "Baudelaires!" I called, hurrying towards them, not letting go of my parents. "You won't believe who I found!"

But they didn't look up. Klaus knelt beside the body and as I drew closer, I gasped. The body was mine. I was lying on the sandy beach, while the Baudelaires stood, gazing down at me in despair. It was clear that the four of us were cured of the Medusoid Mycellium, however, I was yet to regain consciousness.

Klaus reached for my wrist, feeling for my pulse and he glanced up at his sisters in horror.

"Her pulse is racing," he said, tears falling from his eyes. "She can't die. We have to do something."

He looked up at Violet. Tears were streaming down her face. She knelt beside Klaus putting one hand on his shoulder and her other hand on my forehead, gently.

Sunny walked to sit beside my head.

"Jawaku," she said sadly, which meant, "Please wake up, Jane. We need you."

"I'm right here," I called to her. "Baudelaires, it's me, Jane!"

Still, they did not respond as if they could not hear me.

I turned desperately to my parents. "Why can't they hear me?"

My mother and father glanced at each other, and then, gazed sadly from me to my body.

"Your friend is right," my father said, sadly. "You don't have much longer to live."

"What happened?" I asked.

"You saved your friends," my mother said. "When you retrieved the apples from the tree. But you fainted from suffocation before your friends could give you the antidote. Right now, you're in a state between life and death."

As my mother spoke, I watched as Klaus took an apple from the basket and did the best he could to feed it to me.

"Wake up, Jane," he said, tears falling from those soft brown eyes. "I'm sorry, Jane. Please. I can't lose you. I promised you that I wouldn't let you die."

I stepped towards Klaus, reaching out to touch his shoulder, hoping he would turn and smile at the sight of me. He didn't even flinch.

"Oh, Klaus," I said, feeling tears forming in my own eyes. "It's okay. Don't cry."

I wished there was something I could do. I hated seeing Klaus like this.

"Why are you showing me this?" I asked, turning to my parents.

My parents were looking at each other. My mother turned away and I noticed she was crying.

"You can't stay with us, Jamie, dear," my father said.

"What?" I said, in surprise.

My mother turned back towards me. A tear was rolling down her cheek. "It's true, darling," she said. "You have to go back."

"Go back?" I said in fear. I felt fresh tears forming in my own eyes. "I can't go back. I don't want to go. I don't want to leave you. I want to stay here."

"We wish you could stay with us," my father said. "But you're not ready to leave this earth, yet, sweetheart. There are things still left for you to do."

"Why should I return?" I said. "There's nothing there for me, except pain and loneliness."

"What about your friends, dear?" my mother said, gesturing to the Baudelaires, who were huddled around my body, weeping. "They still need you. They love you very much. You mustn't forget about them."

"I don't want to leave them alone," I said, "But I don't want to go back there, either. It's too hard."

I could see more tears glistening in my mother's eyes and she patted the top of my head. "I know, sweetheart," she said, "It's hard for us too. I don't want you to go. But you still have a long life ahead of you. I don't want you to lose that."

"Neither of us want you to go," my father said as he placed a comforting hand on my mother's shoulder. "But we have to be strong."

"It's not fair," I sobbed, "I don't want to lose you. I just found you."

"I know, honey," my mother said, a tear fell from her cheek, splattering on my nose. "But it's just for now. We'll be together again someday, I promise."

"You've got to stay strong," my father said. "Can you be strong for us, Jamie?"

I looked from my mother, who was still crying softly, to my father, whose eyes had welled up with tears. To me, they were the bravest people I knew. I wanted to be just like them. All of those things Olaf and Ishmael revealed about my mother still didn't waver my opinion of her, especially now. She didn't seem like a murderer at all. Of course, I didn't know as much about my father, since Esmé and Olaf never talked about him, except to say that they didn't like him. Seeing him in person, made me see what a wonderful person he was.

"I can't," I said. "I want to be brave, I do. But I can't be. I don't know how."

"You're already brave," my father said. "Bravery is the measure of the kindness in your heart and your integrity. With that spirit, comes courage."

"I'm still afraid," I said. "I don't know how I'll do it alone."

"You won't be alone," my mother said. "You have the Baudelaires. And we'll be beside you the entire time. We've always been with you, sweetheart."

I glanced back and forth between them again. Then, at once, they embraced me and I held on tight to them. I breathed in their sweet scent and memorized their faces. I knew they were right. I had to be brave for them.

I nodded. "Okay," I said. "I can try to be brave."

"When something is lost," my father said, "you might find it in again in unexpected places."

My mother nodded and she pulled out a small blue flower similar to the one Jacques had given me. I realized I must have lost my own flower, perhaps in the storm. She placed it in my palm. "Whenever you feel lost," she said, "when you see this flower, I hope it will remind you that we're with you and you'll find your strength once more."

"Thank you," I said.

"Why don't we sing you a song before you have to go?" my mother suggested.

"I'd like that," I said, with an eager nod.

At that, my father stooped to pick me up, holding me like a baby. My mother came to crouch beside us and we huddled together.

Finally, my mother gently laid a hand on my forehead as she prepared to sing:

_"Come stop your crying_

_It will be all right_

_Just take my hand_

_Hold it tight_

_I will protect you_

_From all around you_

_I will be here_

_Don't you cry_

_For one so small,_

_You seem so strong_

_My arms will hold you,_

_Keep you safe and warm_

_This bond between us_

_Can't be broken_

_I will be here_

_Don't you cry_

_'Cause you'll be in my heart_

_Yes, you'll be in my heart_

_From this day on_

_Now and forever more_

_You'll be in my heart_

_No matter what they say_

_You'll be here in my heart, always_

_Why can't they understand the way we feel?_

_They just don't trust what they can't explain_

_I know we're different but deep inside us_

_We're not that different at all_

_And you'll be in my heart_

_Yes, you'll be in my heart_

_From this day on_

_Now and forever more_

_Don't listen to them_

_'Cause what do they know?_

_We need each other_

_To have, to hold._

_They'll see in time_

_I know_

_When destiny calls you_

_You must be strong _

_I may not be with you_

_But you've got to hold on_

_They'll see in time_

_I know_

_We'll show them together_

_'Cause you'll be in my heart_

_Believe me, you'll be in my heart_

_I'll be there from this day on,_

_Now and forever more…_

_Oh, you'll be in my heart _

_No matter what they say_

_You'll be here in my heart, always_

_Always_

_I'll be with you_

_I'll be there for you always_

_Always and always_

_Just look over your shoulder_

_Just look over your shoulder_

_Just look over your shoulder_

_I'll be there always…"_

As the song came to an end, I found myself beginning to close my eyes and I knew that if I gave into it, I would find myself back on the beach again. I felt a pang of fear in my chest. But then my mother placed her hand over my heart.

"We love you very much Jamie," my mother said, "Never forget that."

* * *

I felt a strange feeling of air whooshing into my mouth and into my lungs. And then, my body took over, my lungs pumping air into my airway. My fingers felt for the flower and I was relieved to find it still in my hands. My eyes fluttered open and I gasped internally at the sad brown eyes that stared into mine.

"Jane," Klaus whispered, incredulously. "You're alive. I thought you were dead and I'd never get to see you again." A tear rolled down his cheek.

I gave him a weary smile as I sat up slowly, leaning my face close to his, as I whispered, "Never say never, Klaus." And then, I closed the distance, planting a kiss on his lips. Butterflies swarmed my stomach and joy raced through my veins, reaching down to my toes as they curled in delight. My heart was racing.

"Klaus," I said softly when I pulled away, smiling at his bewildered expression. I could feel my heart speed up even more as I realized what I was about to say. "I want everything you want. "

Klaus' brown eyes widened in surprise and he stared at me for a moment, as if he didn't believe what he was hearing.

"Jane," he said, "you don't have to out of guilt or…"

"No," I said. "I said that because I honestly want to be with you. We've waited long enough." I took his hand and squeezed it gently to let him know I meant it. He got to his feet, pulling me up with him. I stumbled a bit, but he steadied me.

"So you're not mad anymore?" Klaus asked tentatively, letting go of my hand.

"I'm willing to forgive you for your mistakes," I said. "if you'll forgive me for mine."

Klaus nodded. "I forgive you, Jane," he said. We shared brilliant smiles as we took each other's hands again, gazing into each other's eyes. I leaned my face close to his, our noses brushing as we beamed at each other. My heart soared as we kissed once again.

"Jane!" a voice called in relief. "You're okay!" Klaus and I broke apart, as we looked towards the coastal shelf. Violet, who had called to me, and Sunny were out in the coastal shelf near the raft of books. Sunny was perched on Violet's shoulders, holding the basket of apples.

"What's going on?" I asked. "Where are the islanders?"

"They're leaving," he said, squinting out at the horizon. Then I saw it, the islanders had climbed aboard the outrigger and it was on its way out to sea. They were leaving the safety of their island behind. "Violet and Sunny went to go give them some apples and convince them to stay."

"We should go help," I said, putting the flower away in my pocket before hurrying towards the coastal shelf with Klaus, but I hesitated when I noticed how deep the water had gotten. I turned to Klaus in fear. "I don't know if this is a good idea. I don't know how to swim."

"I do," Klaus said, "And I'll hold on to you so you don't drown."

I nodded, remembering my parents telling me to be brave. Klaus and I waded into the water. He didn't let go of me like he promised and we both reached Violet and Sunny in one piece.

"Stop!" Violet cried, when we were close enough to be heard. "We've discovered a way to dilute the poison!"

"Baudelaires! Jamie!" came the faint cry of Kit high atop the library raft. "Thank goodness you're here! I think I'm going into labor!"

I frowned. That couldn't be good. How were we going to help her give birth? I wasn't a doctor. Especially since she was on top of the library raft.

"We'll help you," Violet promised, "but we need to get these apples to the islanders."

"They won't take them!" Kit said. "I tried to tell them how the poison could be diluted, but they insist on leaving!"

"No one's forcing them," said Ishmael calmly. "I merely suggested that the island was no longer a safe place, and that we should set sail for another one."

"You, Jamie, and the Baudelaires are the ones who got us into this mess," came the drowsy voice of Mr. Pitcairn, thick with fungus and coconut cordial, "but Ishmael is going to get us out."

"This island used to be a safe place," said Professor Fletcher, "far from the treachery of the world. But since you've arrived it's become dangerous and complicated."

"That's not our fault," Klaus said, as we moved closer and closer to the outrigger as the water continued to rise. "You can't live far from the treachery of the world, because eventually the treachery will wash up on your shores."

"Exactly," said Alonso, who yawned. "You washed up and spoiled the island forever."

"So we're leaving it to you," said Ariel, who coughed violently. "You can have this dangerous place. We're going to sail to safety."

"Safe here!" Sunny cried, holding up an apple.

"You've poisoned us enough," said Erewhon, and the islanders wheezed in agreement "We don't want to hear any more of your treacherous ideas."

"Our ideas," I said, "It was your idea to mutiny in the first place."

"Jane's right," Violet said. "I thought you didn't want to take

Ishmael's suggestions."

"That was before the Medusoid Mycelium arrived," Finn said hoarsely.

"He's been here the longest, so he knows how to keep us safe. At his suggestion, we all drank quite a bit of cordial while he figured out the root of the trouble." She paused to catch her breath as the sinister fungus continued to grow. "And the root of the trouble, Baudelaires and Jamie, is you."

"What are you talking about?" I said, "You're the ones manipulated us into helping you with the mutiny. I warned you that it was a terrible idea. And then, you set Olaf free when you knew he was dangerous."

"Yes," Finn said, "but you're the ones who were lying about the Medusoid Mycelium being on the island."

By now we had reached the outrigger, and we looked up at Ishmael, who raised his eyebrows and stared back at us. "Why are you doing this?" Klaus asked the facilitator. "You know we're not the root of the problem."

"In medias res!" Sunny cried.

"Sunny's right," Violet said. "The Medusoid Mycelium was around before we were born, and our parents prepared for its arrival by adding horseradish to the roots of the apple tree."

My eyes widened. My parents and the Baudelaires parents had unknowingly saved our lives. This made me smile slightly as I remembered how it felt to be with my parents. Even if it was for a short time. I knew then, that I had to do the right thing and use our parents' gift to save another life.

"If they don't eat these bitter apples," I pleaded, "they'll come to a bitter end. Tell the islanders the whole story, Ishmael, so they can save themselves."

"The whole story?" Ishmael said, and leaned down from his chair so he could talk to the us without the others hearing. "If I told the islanders the whole story, I wouldn't be keeping them safe from the world's terrible secrets. They almost learned the whole story this morning, and began to mutiny over breakfast. If they knew all these island's secrets there'd be a schism in no time at all."

"Better a schism than a death," Violet said.

Ishmael shook his head, and fingered the wild strands of his woolly beard. "No one is going to die," he said. "This outrigger can take us to a beach near Lousy Lane, where we can travel to a horseradish factory."

"You don't have time for such a long voyage," Klaus said.

"I think we do," Ishmael said. "Even without a compass, I think I can get us to a safe place."

"You need a moral compass," Violet said. "The spores of the Medusoid

Mycelium can kill within the hour. The entire colony could be poisoned, and even if you make it to shore, the fungus could spread to anyone you meet. You're not keeping anyone safe. You're endangering the whole world, just to keep a few of your secrets. That's not parenting! That's horrid and wrong!"

"I guess it depends on how you look at it," Ishmael said. "Good-bye,

Baudelaires and Jamie." He sat up straight and called out to the wheezing islanders.

"I suggest you start rowing," he said, and the colonists reached their arms into the water and began to paddle the outrigger away from the children. We hung on to the side of the boat, there was still something we had to do.

"Friday!" I cried. "Wait!"

"Take apple!" Sunny cried.

"Don't succumb to peer pressure," Violet begged.

Friday turned to face the us, and the Baudelaires and I could see she was terribly frightened. Klaus quickly grabbed an apple from the stockpot, and the young girl leaned out of the boat to touch his hand.

"You need to take one," I cried. "You need to trust us."

"I'm sorry to leave you behind, Baudelaires and Jamie," she said, "but I must go with my family. I've already lost my father, and I couldn't stand to lose anyone else."

"But your father isn't–" I started to say, but Mrs. Caliban gave me a terrible look and pulled her daughter away from the edge of the outrigger.

"Don't rock the boat," she said. "Come here and drink your cordial."

"Your mother is right, Friday," Ishmael said firmly. "You should respect your parent's wishes. It's more than the Baudelaires and Jamie ever did."

"We are respecting our parents' wishes," Violet said, hoisting the apples as high as she could. "They didn't want to shelter us from the world's treacheries. They wanted us to survive them."

"They want us to be brave," I added, "and to do the right thing."

Ishmael put his hand on the stockpot of apples. "What do either of your parents know," he asked, "about surviving?" and with one firm, cruel gesture the old man pushed against the stockpot, and the outrigger moved out of our grasp. We tried to move closer but the water was rising too far. The stockpot tipped, and Sunny gave a small shriek and climbed down to Violet's shoulders as several apples from the pot dropped into the water with a splash. At the sound of the splash, I was reminded of the apple core that Ishmael had dropped, and realized why the facilitator was so calm in the face of the deadly fungus, and why his voice was the only one of the islanders' that wasn't clogged with stalks and caps.

"We have to go after them," Violet said. "We may be their only chance!"

"We can't go after them," Klaus said, still holding the apple. "We have to help Kit."

"Split up," Sunny said, staring after the departing outrigger.

Klaus shook his head. "All of us need to stay if we're going to help Kit give birth." He was gazing at the islanders. I followed his gaze and listened to the wheezing and coughing coming from the boat fashioned from wild grasses and the limbs of trees.

I placed a hand on his shoulder. "They made their decision," I said.

"Kontiki," Sunny said. She meant something along the lines of, "There's no way they'll survive the journey."

After a moment, we hurried to the library raft, and lifted Sunny and the stockpot to the top of the raft where Kit lay, so the Sunny could hold the wheezing woman's gloved hand and the bitter apples could dilute the poison inside her as Violet, Klaus, and I pushed the raft back toward shore.

"Have an apple," Sunny offered, but Kit shook her head.

"I can't," she said.

"But you've been poisoned," Violet said. "You must have caught a spore or two from the islanders as they floated by."

"The apples will harm the baby," Kit said. "There's something in the hybrid that's bad for people who haven't been born yet. That's why your mother never tasted one of her own bitter apples. She was pregnant with you, Violet." One of Kit's gloved hands drifted down over the top of the raft and patted Violet's hair. "I hope I'm half as good a mother as yours was, Violet," she said.

"You will be," I said.

"I don't know," Kit said. "I was supposed to help you, Baudelaires, on that day when you finally reached Briny Beach. I wanted nothing more than to take you away in my taxi to someplace safe. Instead, I threw you into a world of treachery at the Hotel Denouement. And I wanted nothing more than to rescue Jamie from Olaf's clutches and reunite you with your friends, the Quagmires and Melissa Sampson. Instead, I left them behind." She uttered a wheezy sigh, and fell silent.

"What happened?" I asked, trying to imagine what strange events would have brought these books to these shores.

"I failed you," Kit said sadly, and coughed. "Quigley managed to reach the self-sustaining hot air mobile home, just as I hoped he would, and helped his siblings and Hector catch the treacherous eagles in an enormous net, while I met Captain Widdershins and his stepchildren. Melissa met up with us shortly after she made sure the freed recruits were safe."

"Fernald and Fiona?" Violet said. "But they betrayed him and us."

"The captain had forgiven the failures of those he had loved," Kit said, "as I hope you will forgive mine, children. We made a desperate attempt to repair the Queequeg and reach the Quagmires as their aerial battle continued, and arrived just in time to see the balloons of the self-sustaining hot air mobile home pop under the cruel beaks of the escaping eagles. They tumbled down to the surface of the sea, and crashed into the Queequeg. In moments we were all castaways, treading water in the midst of all the items that survived the wreck." She was silent for a moment. "Fiona was so desperate to reach you, Klaus," she said. "She wanted you to forgive her as well."

"Did she–" Klaus started and then, glanced at me tentatively. "I mean, what happened next?"

"I don't know," Kit admitted. "From the depths of the sea a mysterious figure approached–almost like a question mark, rising out of the water."

"We saw that on a radar screen," Violet remembered. "Captain Widdershins refused to tell us what it was."

"My brother used to call it 'The Great Unknown,'" Kit said, clasping her belly as the baby kicked violently. "I was terrified, children. Quickly I fashioned a Vaporetto of Favorite Detritus, as I'd been trained to do."

"What's that?" Sunny asked.

"It's an Italian term for 'boat,'" Kit said. "It was one of many Italian phrases Monty taught me. A Vaporetto of Favorite Detritus is a way of saving yourself and your favorite things at the same time. I gathered all the books in reach that I enjoyed, tossing the boring ones into the sea, but everyone else wanted to take their chances with the great unknown. I begged the others to climb aboard as the question mark approached, but only Ink managed to reach me. The others ... " Her voice trailed off, and for a moment Kit did nothing but wheeze. "In an instant they were gone–either swallowed up or rescued by that mysterious thing."

"You don't know what happened to them?" I asked.

Kit shook her head. "All I heard," she said, "was one of the Quagmires calling Violet's name."

Sunny looked into the face of the distraught woman. "Quigley," she asked, "or Duncan?"

"I don't know," Kit said again. "I'm sorry, children. I failed you. You succeeded in your noble errands at the Hotel Denouement, and saved

Dewey and the others, but I don't know if we'll ever see the Quagmires and their companions again. I hope you will forgive my failures, and when I see Dewey again I hope he will forgive me, too."

We looked at one another sadly, realizing it was time at last to tell Kit Snicket the whole story, as she had told us.

"We'll forgive your failures," Violet said, "if you'll forgive ours."

"We failed you, too," I said. "I failed you from the start…I was there when Jacques was killed. Olaf did it. And I couldn't save him…"

"And we had to burn down the Hotel Denouement," Klaus added, "and we don't know if anyone escaped to safety."

"Count Olaf wanted me to shoot down one of the V.F.D. crows," I said, "And I let Esmé do it for me. And then, he tried to make me shoot a person—Dewey. I didn't want to and I lowered the gun. But something went wrong…Dewey is dead…" As I finished speaking, we all burst into tears. We weren't crying over something terrible that has happened, but for all of the terrible things that have happened to us and to everyone we knew and didn't know.

Sunny held Kit, and Violet, Klaus, and I held onto each other, and for a minute we did nothing but weep, letting our tears run down our faces and into the sea. I cried for all of the people I lost. I cried for Dewey Denouement, and for the Quagmire triplets, and for Melissa Sampson, and for Jacques Snicket, and for Esmé Squalor, and for Faith Murray, and even for Fiona, and for all of our guardians, recruits, and friends. I cried for the filthy feeling I felt whenever I was reminded of the bald man or the man with a beard but no hair. I cried for all of my failures and for the times people failed me. I cried for my ability to forgive those who failed me and for all of the treacheries I had endured. I cried for the world, and I cried for my parents. I had spent a lifetime waiting for them to come for me, but now I knew for sure that they were gone forever. Even though Kit Snicket had not brought news of my parents, her story of the Great Unknown made me see at last that the people who had written all those chapters in _A Series of Unfortunate Events_ were gone forever into the great unknown, and that the Baudelaires and I would be orphans forever, too.

"Stop," Kit said finally, through her fading tears. "Stop pushing the raft. I

cannot go on."

"We have to go on," Violet said.

"We're almost at the beach," Klaus said.

"The shelf is flooding," Sunny said.

"Don't give up hope," I said.

"Let it flood," Kit said. "I can't do it, children. I've lost too many people–my parents, my true love, and my brothers."

I frowned. "Both your brothers?" I asked.

Kit nodded sadly.

"But Lemony is alive," I said, "I saw him not too long ago at the Hotel Denouement. He's the one who helped me find my way again and choose a path of good."

Kit smiled wearily. "I hope he's doing well," she said, "but even so, it's much too hard for me to bear it. I don't know how _Lemony_ bears it half the time."

"You're not the only one who's lost everything," I said, "My entire family is deceased. I barely know who I am. But there's a light at the end of the tunnel, Kit." "Listen, I saw them—my parents. I was so thrilled to see them that I nearly forgot about our dreadful circumstances. They told me that I was dying and that I needed to go back—to keep on living. At first I didn't want to leave them because I was afraid of all the treacheries in the world. But my parents pointed out that I still had something to live for." I looked at the Baudelaires who gave me sad smiles. "The Baudelaires—they're my new family." Then, I looked at Klaus. "I knew I had to come back—for them."

"I'm glad you did, Jamie," Kit said, "but I'm not sure that there's any thing left for me in this world."

I noticed Violet reaching into her pocket, and she retrieved the ornate ring, emblazoned with the initial R.

"Sometimes the things you've lost can be found again in unexpected places," Violet said, and held the ring up for Kit to see. The distraught woman removed her gloves, and held the ring in her bare and trembling hand.

"This isn't mine," she said. "It belonged to your mother."

"Before it belonged to our mother," Klaus said, "it belonged to you."

"Its history began before we were born," Kit said, "and it should continue after we die. Give it to my child, Baudelaires and you as well Jamie. Let my child be part of my history, even if the baby is an orphan, and all alone in the world."

"The baby will not be alone," Violet said fiercely. "If you die, Kit, we will raise this child as our own."

"Me too," I said. "I won't let her grow up like I did. I'll make sure she knows how wonderful her mother and father were. I promise you I'll never abandon her."

"Thank you," Kit said quietly and reached out to place her hand over mine in gratitude. "I could not ask for better. Name the baby after one of your parents, children. The custom of my family is to name a baby for someone who has died."

"Ours too," Sunny said.

I frowned. I wasn't sure if that was my family's custom or not, although I was named after my deceased aunt, Faith Murray.

"Our families have always been close," Kit said, "even if we had to stay apart from one another—your family as well, Jamie. Now, finally, we are all together, as if we are one family."

"Then let us help you," Sunny said, and with a weepy, wheezy nod, Kit

Snicket let the us push her Vaporetto of Favorite Detritus off the coastal shelf and onto the shores of the island, just as the outrigger disappeared on the horizon. I gazed at the islanders for the last time and then at the cube of books, and tried to imagine how we could get Kit to a safe place so we could help her give birth to her child.

"Can you lower yourself down?" Violet asked.

Kit shook her head. "It hurts," she said, her voice thick with the poisonous fungus.

"We can carry her," Klaus said, but Kit shook her head again.

"I'm too heavy," she said weakly. "I could fall from your grasp and hurt the baby."

"We can invent a way to get you to the shore," Violet said.

"Yes," Klaus said. "We'll just run to the arboretum to find what we need."

"No time," Sunny said, and Kit nodded in agreement.

"The baby's coming quickly," she said. "Find someone to help you."

"But who?" I asked. "We're alone."

But then I remembered that there was in fact someone else here. Count Olaf, of course was still hanging out by the tree.

I started towards the villain and the Baudelaires followed. Sunny brought the stockpot along with us and in a few moments we reached Count Olaf as he coughed and wheezed.

"Hello, orphans," he said, his voice even wheezier and rougher from the spreading poison of the Medusoid Mycelium. Esmé's dress had fallen away from his skinny body, and he was in his regular clothes, with one hand holding a seashell of cordial. "Are you here to bow before the King of Olaf-Land?"

"We don't have time for your nonsense," I said. "Olaf-Land is not happening."

"We need your help," Violet said.

Count Olaf's eyebrow raised, and he gave the children an astonished glare. "You need my help?" he asked. "What happened to all those island fools?"

"They abandoned us," Klaus said.

I nodded sadly.

Olaf wheezed horridly, and it took me a moment to realize he was laughing.

"How do you like them apples?" he sputtered. "Though I'm not surprised that Blondie was abandoned yet again."

"We'll give you apples," Sunny said, gesturing to the stockpot, "if you help."

"I don't want fruit," Olaf snarled. "I want the fortunes your parents left behind."

"Well they certainly aren't here," I said, "None of us may ever see a penny of those fortunes."

"Even if it were here," Klaus said, "you might not live to enjoy it."

"Mcguffin," Sunny said, which meant, "Your scheming means nothing in this place."

Count Olaf raised the seashell to his lips, and we could see that he was trembling. "Then maybe I'll just stay here," he said hoarsely. "I've lost too much to go on–my parents, my true love, my henchfolk, well except for you, Blondie, an enormous amount of money I didn't earn, even the boat with my name on it."

"We've lost almost everything too," I said.

Violet knelt on the sand, and grabbed the villain's shoulders with both hands. "We have to go on," she said. "Do one good thing in your life,

Olaf."

"I've done lots of good things in my life," he snarled. "I once took in three orphans, I promised Blondie I would spare her life, I helped Abigail get what she wanted, and I've been considered for several prestigious theatrical awards."

Klaus knelt down beside Violet, and stared into the villain's shiny eyes. "You're the one who made us orphans in the first place," he said

Olaf closed his eyes for a moment, and then stared slowly at the four of us in turn.

"Is that what you think?" he said finally.

"We know it," Sunny said.

"I was there that day," I said as I knelt down beside Violet and Klaus, "and I saw your car driving away from their street."

"That proves nothing," Olaf said.

"Also, what happened to my parents is still a mystery to me," I continued, ignoring his dismissal, "but I can't help but suspect you were responsible for the fire that might have killed my parents—or at least my mother."

"You don't know anything," Count Olaf scoffed. "You four children are the same as when I first laid eyes on you. You think you can triumph in this world with nothing more than a keen mind, a pile of books, the occasional gourmet meal, and a musical talent and strange abilities." He poured one last gulp of cordial into his poisoned mouth before throwing the seashell into the sand. "You're just like your parents," he said.

"You're right," I said, "I'm _exactly_ like my parents. And that's why I'm going to help you do the right thing. Also it's because of my parents that I had the courage to save your life before. If it weren't for me you might have died on impact. Maybe my musical talents can't help me all the time, but I still have my courage and integrity."

"Courage?" he said with a wheezy laugh. "Integrity? And how have those qualities helped you? Jacques Snicket is still dead and Esmé abandoned you. You're just as weak as you were that day I locked you in that empty room."

I frowned, trying not to let his cruel words get to me. I opened my mouth to speak, but I was interrupted as Kit Snicket moaned from on top of the raft. I felt inside my pocket and took out the flower, hoping to find my strength again.

"You have to help Kit," Violet said. "The baby is arriving."

"Here," I said as I took an apple from the stockpot to hold it out to him, "Our parents invented these and saved our lives. And now we're going to save yours once again."

Count Olaf scoffed. "What do I care?" he said, "I've never liked the Snickets anyways."

"Because I saved your life," I said, "You owe me. And besides, it's the right thing to do. I know that deep down, there's some good in you. It's never too late to achieve redemption for your failings." I showed him the flower. "This to me represents my mother's redemption. Esmé told me my mother chose a better path in the end. Maybe you can too."

Count Olaf stared at the flower in my hands with wide and shiny eyes, and then he glanced at me for a second. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

Kit moaned again.

"Please," I said.

He scowled, but snatched the apple from my hand and took a savage bite. He chewed the apple, and we listened as his wheezing subsided and our parents' invention diluted the Medusoid Mycelium. He took another bite, and another, and then, with a horrible groan, the villain rose to his feet and moved down the slope, wading into the waters of the flooding coastal shelf. In a swift gesture, he lifted Kit from the raft and carried her onto the shores of the island. Our distraught friend's eyes were closed, and as we hurried over to her we weren't sure whether she was still alive or not. Count Olaf laid her carefully down on the white sands of the beach, and I sighed in relief when I saw her chest heaving with breath.

The villain straightened up and then frowned at us. "Are you happy?" he said. "I don't like to be in debt to anyone. Have I achieved this redemption thing yet?"

"You're a wicked man," Kit said. "Do you think one kind act will redeem your failings?"

The villain uttered a deep sigh. "I haven't apologized," he said, looking first at Kit and then at the Baudelaires and I. Kit reached out and touched Olaf's ankle, right on the tattoo of an eye that had haunted me since I had first laid eyes on it. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny looked at the tattoo, remembering all of the times it had been disguised and all the times it had been revealed, and I thought of all the other places I had seen it. I thought about how within the eye were three initials, V.F.D, and I thought about all of the sinister mysteries surrounding the organization, and my family's involvement. It seemed that these eyes were watching us, though I still could not figure out whether the symbol represented something good, bad, or both. The whole story of these eyes might be a mystery to us for our entire lives.

"'The night has a thousand eyes,'" Kit said hoarsely as she lifted her head to face the villain. '"And the day but one; yet the light of the bright world dies with the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, and the heart but one: yet the light of a whole life dies when love is done.'"

Count Olaf frowned at Kit "You're not the only one who can recite the words of our associates," he said, and then gazed out at the sea. The sun was beginning to set as the afternoon came to an end and soon our safe island would be covered in darkness. '"Man hands on misery to man,'" the villain said. "'It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can. And don't have any kids yourself,'" he finished, with a short, sharp laugh.

At that moment, Kit moaned in pain, her throat thick with fungus, and she clutched her heaving belly. We hurried to help her. Sunny stayed at Kit's side to comfort her and support her back. Kit Snicket's labor was very difficult and it felt like we were moving in the wrong direction, which caused us much grief. At one point, Klaus and I had to rush over to the arboretum to get some supplies. Olaf didn't help much. At one point he turned away in disgust to gaze out at the sea again. Clearly he had no interest in participating in helping a woman give birth. I helped as best as I could, and although our knowledge on labor was limited, we managed to successfully deliver a baby girl. Violet passed the baby girl to me and I immediately brought her over to Kit. Her hour was almost up, but I wanted her to have the chance to meet her daughter before she passed away.

"It's a girl," I said to Kit, and I felt tears form in my eyes as I spoke. "Isn't she beautiful?"

Kit was getting weaker but I managed to place the baby in her arms. Kit's newborn daughter's eyes opened as she was placed in her mother's arms. Her crying calmed down slightly. "She is," Kit managed.

"Little Beatrice Snicket," I said.

"Actually," Klaus said, "It's Beatrice Abigail Snicket."

I beamed up at him in approval, happy to know that Kit's baby could carry on my mother's name.

Kit touched my arm and leaned close to whisper so only I could hear. "There's something you need to know, only you. You're mother had another child. But like you, the child has disappeared."

"You mean," I said, in disbelief. "I may have a brother or a sister?"

Kit nodded. "I'm not sure where the child is, but I hope someday you'll meet," she said. "Everyone deserves to know who their family is."

"Thank you," I said.

At that moment, the baby began to cry again, and then, Kit started to murmur something to the baby that made her crying settle into whimpers. I realized it was a song. And not just any song:

_Here, where the world is quiet;_

_Here, where all trouble seems_

_Dead winds' and spent waves' riot_

_In doubtful dreams of dreams;_

_I watch the green field growing_

_For reaping folk and sowing,_

_For harvest-time and mowing,_

_A sleepy world of streams._

_I am tired of tears and laughter,_

_And men that laugh and weep;_

_Of what may come hereafter_

_For men that sow to reap:_

_I am weary of days and hours,_

_Blown buds of barren flowers,_

_Desires and dreams and powers_

_And everything but sleep._

_Here life has death for neighbour,_

_And far from eye or ear_

_Wan waves and wet winds labour,_

_Weak ships and spirits steer;_

_They drive adrift, and whither_

_They wot not who make thither;_

_But no such winds blow hither,_

_And no such things grow here._

_No growth of moor or coppice,_

_No heather-flower or vine,_

_But bloomless buds of poppies,_

_Green grapes of Proserpine,_

_Pale beds of blowing rushes_

_Where no leaf blooms or blushes_

_Save this whereout she crushes_

_For dead men deadly wine._

_Pale, without name or number,_

_In fruitless fields of corn,_

_They bow themselves and slumber_

_All night till light is born;_

_And like a soul belated,_

_In hell and heaven unmated,_

_By cloud and mist abated_

_Comes out of darkness morn._

_Though one were strong as seven,_

_He too with death shall dwell,_

_Nor wake with wings in heaven,_

_Nor weep for pains in hell;_

_Though one were fair as roses,_

_His beauty clouds and closes;_

_And well though love reposes,_

_In the end it is not well."_

Kit broke off to wheeze some more and I could tell she couldn't go on singing anymore. Suddenly, I was reminded of that fateful day when Jacques Snicket died. I thought about how I had finished singing that song when he died. I knew then that I had to finish Kit's song as well.

"_Pale, beyond porch and portal,_

_Crowned with calm leaves, she stands_

_Who gathers all things mortal_

_With cold immortal hands;_

_Her languid lips are sweeter_

_Than love's who fears to greet her_

_To men that mix and meet her_

_From many times and lands."_

_Kit smiled at me gratefully and gave her daughter a final kiss goodbye, before I took her back in my arms. Sunny took Kit's hand again and then I continued to sing:_

"_She waits for each and other,_

_She waits for all men born;_

_Forgets the earth her mother,_

_The life of fruits and corn;_

_And spring and seed and swallow_

_Take wing for her and follow_

_Where summer song rings hollow_

_And flowers are put to scorn._

_There go the loves that wither,_

_The old loves with wearier wings;_

_And all dead years draw thither,_

_And all disastrous things;_

_Dead dreams of days forsaken,_

_Blind buds that snows have shaken,_

_Wild leaves that winds have taken,_

_Red strays of ruined springs._

_We are not sure of sorrow,_

_And joy was never sure;_

_To-day will die to-morrow;_

_Time stoops to no man's lure;_

_And love, grown faint and fretful,_

_With lips but half regretful_

_Sighs, and with eyes forgetful_

_Weeps that no loves endure._

_From too much love of living,_

_From hope and fear set free,_

_We thank with brief thanksgiving_

_Whatever gods may be_

_That no life lives for ever;_

_That dead men rise up never;_

_That even the weariest river_

_Winds somewhere safe to sea._

_Then star nor sun shall waken,_

_Nor any change of light:_

_Nor sound of waters shaken,_

_Nor any sound or sight:_

_Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,_

_Nor days nor things diurnal;_

_Only the sleep eternal_

_In an eternal night."_

As the song ended, Kit's eyes took on a glossy look and it was then that I knew she had left us. When I stared into her eyes, all I could see was Jacques' glossy eyes. Kit's daughter began to sniffle and then, let out a cry once more. Hearing Kit's baby crying was too much for me to stand and I shook with great heaving sobs. Violet gently took the baby from my arms so I wouldn't startle it and Klaus put his arm around me. I cried on his shoulder and soon the Baudelaires were sobbing too. We huddled together the way we had many times before—as if we were one family.

* * *

**And for the last time for the ASOUE part fic...REVIEW!**

**Now this isn't techincally 'the end'/ the last chapter of The Frenzied Fate so there's no new story yet. So keep following this story to find out what will become of Jamie and the Baudelaires. And yes, unfortunately, Count Olaf is still alive.**


	27. A New Beginning

** New chapter!**

**As I mentioned last chapter the ASOUE part isn't technically over so i'll be publishing chapters in this story. This is just the aftermath leading up to the Harry Potter part. I'll let you know when to look for the new story which will be the beginning of the Harry Potter part! **

**Anyways...enjoy! **

**(Sorry for the delay again but school is ending soon so I just have a ton of work.)**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: A New Beginning**

Our days on the island following Kit's death and the birth of her daughter Beatrice Abigail Snicket, were somewhat pleasant despite Olaf's presence. At first I was worried about how the Baudelaires and I would manage taking care of a baby. My knowledge on babies was pretty limited, of course. I wasn't sure if I was ready to be a parent. But I knew once the baby came out into the world, I would guard the baby with my life. If Olaf ever tried to even go near the baby, he'd have to go through me first.

Fortunately, Klaus and I found some books on parenting in the underground space, and we were able to keep track of the baby's progress. Violet helped by designing and constructing the equipment that we needed to raise an infant, such as a beautiful little crib. Violet had found a damaged crib in the arboretum and made some repairs. Then, we had all taken part in repainting the crib with some white and bright yellow paint we had discovered. Sunny herded and milked the wild sheep in order to provide Beatrice nourishment, and then, used the whisk Friday had given her to make soft foods for her to eat when her teeth came in.

As for me, whenever it was time for Beatrice to sleep, I would hold her in my arms and sing to her. Sometimes I would sing to her when she was really fussy and we had tried everything. Whenever I sang, even if she was in the fussiest mood, after a few minutes, her wails would subside and she would close those little brown eyes of hers. And all four of us planted seeds from the bitter apples all over the island to eradicate the last traces of the Medusoid Mycelium. Although we knew that the fungus grew mostly in small, enclosed spaces. We knew the island would remain as safe as the day we arrived.

Throughout the day, our chores took up a lot of our time. Not to mention the many other demands and orders Count Olaf made. He had officially crowned himself the King of Olaf Land and we were now his royal subjects. He liked to boss us around a lot. We had to make him three meals a day and do whatever he said. But it wasn't so bad. Now that he didn't have the harpoon gun or the Medusoid Mycellium to threaten us with, we found little ways to rebel. Sometimes we wouldn't put ice in his drinks and we wouldn't listen to him when he demanded that he should be the only one who gets to live underground.

Eventually, he found a long stick that he said was his 'sceptre' and he would poke us with it if he didn't like what we were doing. He was far too lazy and not nearly as skilled as Violet was at inventing. So his attempts to invent weapons backfired a lot. That didn't prevent him from unleashing terror on us every day. Olaf told me that I was still his henchwoman and that if I did what he said, that we would make the Baudelaires suffer. But I just ignored him. I would rather suffer with the Baudelaires than be the cause of their pain.

At night, after I finally got Beatrice to fall asleep, the Baudelaires and I would sit in the two large reading chairs and take turns reading aloud from the book our parents left behind. We also added some of our own history to the book.

During this time, Olaf would either be snoring loudly in the bed he had forced us to make for him out of supplies in the arboretum or he would be bossing us around some more. we tried to keep the book hidden from him and we were successful…until one evening when he woke to discover us reading it. He looked at the book and at first, he didn't seem to care. But then he saw the gold letters on the book's cover and snatched it from us. After reading a few passages, he demanded that we should never keep something like that a secret from him. He said he was going to get rid of the book so we would never be able to read it again. I know that he didn't actually destroy it, though, because I found it hiding under his makeshift bed.

Since that day, he would guard the book like crazy so we barely got to see it again. It made me sad because we were about to read about my parent's arrival on the island. I had so hoped to read about their adventures. We resorted to reading other books, though we were always so frustrated that we had been so close to answering all of our questions and it was snatched away from us.

Sometimes when Beatrice wouldn't fall asleep, she would sit with us while we read aloud. She loved it whenever one of us read to her from one of the many books on the endless shelves. Our parents or one of the other castaways must have had a hunch that we would need some children's books, for we found books by Dr. Seuss, Beverly Clearly, and Roald Dahl, to name a few. The shelves even carried an official copy of _Grimm's Fairytales_ and Lewis Carroll's _Alice and Wonderland_.

Eventually, we would all drift off to sleep in the reading chairs. Beatrice slept in the crib Violet made for her, but sometimes she preferred to join us to sleep in the reading chairs. After several hours, little Beatrice would wake up and begin to cry. We took turns taking care of her. When it was my turn, I would carry Beatrice, in a sling that Violet had designed, out of the arboretum and up to the top of the brae. There I would sit with Beatrice, enjoying some breakfast and gazing at the sea. Klaus and I sometimes liked to go together and I loved those moments we spent watching the sunrise. We loved those moments so much and even begged Violet and Sunny to let it be our turn.

Sometimes Klaus and I would go sit on the brae even if Beatrice slept through the night. A week after the islanders left, Klaus and I slipped out of the arboretum. That was before we started taking Beatrice with us.

"I love how everything looks at this hour," I said as we walked, hand in hand over to the brae. The sky was still dark, but the stars were disappearing. "It's like another world."

"I love being with you," Klaus said, with a tired smile. I smiled back and I wanted so badly to kiss him again. Over the past few days, we sort of kissed a bit. I thought after our first official kiss that I would feel completely confident about kissing him again. But I still got so nervous. I just really liked him.

We talked some more as we walked towards the brae. I liked to ask him about books he was reading and he liked to talk to me about music. We reached the brae and sat down beside each other. We didn't let go of each other's hands.

"I've missed you," I said, and leaned my head on his shoulder.

"Me too," Klaus said. "What happened the other day? What made you change your mind and save us from the Medusoid Mycelium?"

"You," I said. "I read your notebook. I guess I understand now why you felt uncertain about my feelings about you. It kills me to think you were trying to tell me all that time. Especially at the New York Boarding School. I never would have gone with Connor, or at least let Kate and Christina trick me into 'going' with him to the Winter Dance if I had known. I'm so sorry."

"Don't," Klaus said. "I shouldn't have been afraid to tell you. What about the Company show though? Did you see that I sang that song for you?"

"I was there watching when you sang it," I said, "and I was startled by it. But then Olaf took me away from you. I guess I tried to tell myself it didn't mean anything…I don't really know why. It was just easier to tell myself that you didn't feel that way about me. It hurt less when I thought I'd never see you again."

"I never want to lose you like that ever again," Klaus said.

As he spoke, the sun was beginning to poke out from the horizon, casting its brilliant glow on the land. It was as if the world had been born again, the sun's rays touching the earth for the first time. It felt like Klaus and I were the only two people on earth.

"Is it true?" Klaus asked suddenly, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. "Do you really think of me whenever you see a sunrise?"

His words triggered the memory of when we had fought at the Hotel Denouement. I had basically confessed how much the sunrise made me think of him.

"Yes," I said, "it gave me hope whenever I saw a sunrise. It was that hope that stayed in me when I thought you had died. It still gives me hope—hope for a brighter future. Hope that you would somehow be in that future."

Klaus smiled. "I know you'll be in my future," Klaus said.

We fell silent, watching the sun as it slowly rose into the sky. Its golden rays touched our faces, bestowing its radiant glow on everything in sight.

"_Nature's first green is gold," _

Klaus began to recite.

_Her hardest hue to hold."_

I joined in:

"_Her early leaf's a flower;_

_But only so an hour._

_Then leaf subsides to leaf._

_So Eden sank to grief,_

_So dawn goes down to day._

_Nothing gold can stay."_

We exchanged smiles as we watched the sun continue its climb into the sky.

* * *

One of the many places I enjoyed to go and think by myself was a pretty meadow. When the Baudelaires and I were planting apple trees, I decided to try and grow more plumbago flowers using the one my parents gave me. They were still growing, but should be fully grown within the month. Small colorful fish inhabited a pond within the meadow. I have never seen such beautiful looking fish before in my life. I loved to watch them swim about. I was always fascinated by ocean life like fish. I have always wanted somebody to take me snorkeling or scuba diving so I could see the beautiful life that inhabited the ocean. Well…except I couldn't swim and now I had the Great Unknown to fear.

I sat on the edge of the pond deep in thought. My feet were submerged into the pond's cool waters. Every now and one of the little fish would accidentally brush against my foot right where it was most sensitive, making me giggle.

Today, I had mixed feelings. It was my birthday today, though, I didn't tell the Baudelaires that. I was trying to be positive today, I really was. It's just, every year on my birthday I would spend time contemplating about my parents and wondering whether they were proud of me. Usually, my birthday was forgotten. There were only a few times when I would receive a gift from Goodwill like those ribbons I gave Sunny. Today I was also thinking about my parents. I didn't want to upset the Baudelaires so I decided I would find somewhere quiet to think. I know I had just seen my parents in that strange dream I had…but sometimes I felt a sense of doubt. Doubt that the dream really happened. It just seems a little crazy to be having dreams about two people who were probably dead.

Even if it had happened, I was still sad. Sad because I had to say goodbye to them. It ached to be away from them when I had been so close to spending the rest of time with them. I cared about the Baudelaires and little Beatrice more than anything, but I still wanted my parents back. And not just in a dream. I wanted them to be _here_.

"You're pretty, Jane."

I looked up and had to squint through the blinding light of the sun as it moved directly overhead. I could make out Klaus standing on the other side of the pond, giving me a soft smile. His usually dark brown hair had turned a little lighter from the sun over the past few days and his dark eyes sparkled as he squinted back at me through his round glasses. He was carrying a book in his hand.

I gave him a small smile and then, looked back down at my face reflecting in the waters. Klaus walked along the edge of the pond until he reached me. He sat down beside me and stared into the depths of the pond as well. After a moment, he reached out and touched one of the tadpoles, which blossomed at his touch. He removed his shoes and slipped his feet inside too.

He barely spoke and neither did I. We just sat together in silence, listening to birds singing from the trees and the sheep Ishmael had left crunched on pieces of grass nearby.

"I thought you'd be here," Klaus said, after a moment of silence. "When I woke up and saw that you had disappeared, I knew there was only one place you could be."

"It's quiet here," I whispered.

"Happy birthday," he said.

I looked up at him in surprise. "How did you know?" I asked.

"Do you honestly think I would forget your birthday?" Klaus said, "After everything we've been through, you should know how much I care about you."

I smiled. "Thank you," I said. We were silent for a moment.

"Oh, Klaus, I'm sorry," I said, finally, "I'm so sorry for everything."

"For what, Jane?" Klaus asked.

"You think I'm some kind of hero for changing my mind and getting that apple for you," I said. "But it's not true. I'm nothing of the sort."

"Jane, you don't need to apologize—" he started.

"No," I shook my head. A tear escaped and rolled down my nose. "It's not okay at all. What I did…it was awful…I can't believe you didn't just abandon me. I don't deserve to be here right now after everything I did. Not just that day, but things like aiming that harpoon gun at Dewey Denouement."

"I would never abandon you," Klaus said, firmly. "I forgive you for what you did too." That made me look up at him and stare into his eyes. In his eyes I found the sincerity of his words making me believe what he told me.

But it was wrong for him to be so honest with me when I'd been so terrible to him and his siblings.

"Don't say that," I said, "you don't mean it. How could you mean it? It's my fault that Dewey Denouement is dead. Its my fault Count Olaf kidnapped Justice Strauss." More tears escaped. "I helped him do it."

"Dewey's death wasn't your fault," Klaus said, "It's our fault. We let go of the gun. And I'm willing to forgive you for helping Olaf because I know that you're better than that."

"I held the weapon that took Dewey's life," I said, "I was aiming it right at his chest. I was going to kill him. _Me!_ I'm becoming increasingly evil everyday."

"But you didn't kill him," Klaus said, "you put the gun down. You're not evil, Jane. I've seen evil and you are not anything close to it."

"But I've done other bad things too," I said, "I could never be noble like you or your siblings."

"You're noble enough," Klaus replied. Then, he reached out and took my hand in his. Ever so gently, he leaned forward and kissed me. Butterflies swarmed in the pit of my stomach the way they did everytime we kissed. A strange feeling surged through me that I could never place. But I knew I enjoyed that strange feeling. It was such an overwhelming feeling that I almost broke our kiss, but I let my fear turn into sorrow as more tears escaped. It had only been a moment that our lips touched but it felt like much longer. When we did break apart, Klaus noticed my wet eyes and put an arm around my shoulder.

"There's something else," I said, after a moment.

"What is it?" Klaus asked.

"When I was unconscious," I said, "call me crazy but I saw my parents."

"Like in a dream?" he said.

"Yes," I said, "but it felt so real. I was so happy to see them and they were happy to see me. It was so perfect. And then I learned that I was dying. My parents told me that I couldn't stay. I had to go back to face the world and finish my life. I was so sad and afraid. I wanted to see you and your siblings, but I also wanted to have my parents. But they asked me to be brave for them so I said I would. That's when I woke up."

"I'm a little glad that you chose to stay," he said. "I would have missed you if…"

"I know," I said, "That's why I came back. I saw how upset you were. I know I've been in your shoes."

"Why does that make you so upset?" Klaus asked.

"It's just…I've waited my whole life for them to come," I said. "And there was always that added mystery that maybe they were still alive. Like with your parents. I guess seeing them as spirits or whatever you call it, just confirmed that they did die. I never thought I'd have to say goodbye to them once I found them either. I miss them."

Klaus nodded and was silent as he looked into the pond. A tear rolled down his nose and fell into the pond, creating a ripple effect.

"I'm sorry," I said, suddenly. "I didn't mean to upset you. That's why I came out here by myself."

"No," Klaus said, "it's okay. I was feeling a little glum about my parents too. Even reading their book still makes it difficult. I know I'll never see my parents again."

We held each other as we cried again. Klaus cried too, but his tears were more silent. Still, we held onto each other, finding comfort in each other's arms, just like always.

I reached out after a moment, and took his hand. "We haven't lost it all yet," I said.

Klaus nodded. "That reminds me," he said, after a moment. "I planned a little birthday surprise for you."

"You didn't have to," I said, "it's not like I did much for your birthday."

"You gave me deus ex machina," Klaus said, rising to his feet. "Hope. And that was more than I could have ever asked for. Now it's your turn for some hope."

Klaus helped me stand up and I followed him away from the meadow. We walked together to the arboretum. I looked around, trying to predict what the surprise could be.

Klaus told me to close my eyes when we got to the tree. He led me into what I could only guess was the underground space beneath the tree. Finally Klaus told me to open my eyes.

"Surprise!" the Baudelaires all exclaimed at once, as Violet and Sunny jumped out from behind the reading chairs. "Happy birthday Jane!"

I looked in awe from Klaus to Violet and Sunny, and at the rest of the room. Beatrice was propped up in one of the chairs, giggling at all the excitement. The Baudelaires had managed to tie some light blue balloons to the reading chairs and there was also one attached to the piano. There was a banner hanging from the ceiling that said "Happy Birthday!" and on the kitchen counter, there was a cake. Not just any cake but coconut cream cake.

I felt like I was going to cry again. No one has ever really made a big deal about my birthday. I never had even one birthday celebrated, except maybe my first birthday, which I didn't remember.

I was speechless and I couldn't even think of a way to thank them. I couldn't take it and I began to cry softly.

"Don't cry, Jane," Violet said.

"This was supposed to be special," Sunny said, whose unintelligible shrieks were increasingly fading. "It was not supposed to make you sad."

"I'm not sad," I said. "I'm really…happy. No one has ever made such a big deal about my birthday. Thank you. So much. I don't know how I can repay you."

"You don't have to give us anything," Klaus said, "we understand you are new to this. But today is about us giving you gifts."

"And cake!" Sunny cried.

I couldn't help, but giggle when she said that.

"It's been so long since we've been able to celebrate anything," Violet said. "And we want so badly to celebrate your birthday. We didn't want it to be forgotten again."

"Ok fine," I said. "If you really want to…"

"Wonderful!" Sunny cried.

So Klaus took my hand and led me over to sit on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. Violet lit some candles and they all sang happy birthday to me. Klaus was holding Beatrice who was clapping and uttering little shrieks of delight.

They told me to blow out the candles and make a wish. I looked at each of their faces and then, back at the candles. I knew just what to wish for. I blew out the candles.

Violet let me cut the first piece for myself. The Baudelaires got their own slices and we all sat in the two reading chairs to eat cake.

"Now it's present time!" Sunny announced. I realized then, that Klaus had slipped out of the room when I didn't notice. He came back in as Sunny made the announcement and he was carrying something big behind his back.

"Oh no," I said, "You really don't have to."

Klaus shook his head. He was wearing a big grin. "You really think we would forget to give you a gift?" he said. "You should know us better than that, Jane."

"Close your eyes," Violet said and covered my eyes with her hands. I held out my hands and Klaus put something odd in my hands. It was smooth like…wood and big. It felt familiar. Violet took her hands away and I stared in amazement at the acoustic guitar sitting on my lap.

"How?" I asked.

"I found it in the arboretum," Klaus said, "It must have been ruined in the storm, but Violet repaired it. Now it's as good as new."

"It's beautiful," I said, as I strummed the chords and tuned it a bit. I just loved the feeling everytime I held a guitar. I felt like it was finally my turn to speak.

"You can play it all you want," Klaus said, "but I get to go first."

I raised my eyebrows and giggled. "I thought it was my birthday," I said, but then, I handed him the guitar.

"I wrote you a song," Klaus said. He sat down on the stool, facing me and began to sing:

"_Some things we don't talk about_

_Rather do without_

_And just hold the smile_

_Falling in and out of love_

_Ashamed and proud of_

_Together all the while_

_You can never say never_

_While we don't know when_

_But time and time again_

_Younger now than we were before_

_ Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_ Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_ Picture, you're the queen of everything_

_As far as the eye can see_

_Under your command_

_I will be your guardian_

_When all is crumbling_

_I steady your hand_

_ You can never say never_

_While we don't know when_

_Time, time, time again_

_Younger now than we were before_

_ Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_ Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_ We're falling apart _

_And we're coming together_

_again and again_

_ We're growing apart _

_But we pull it together, _

_pull it together, _

_together again_

_ Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_ Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_ Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go..." _

I felt tears in my eyes once more. Klaus carefully put the guitar off to the side in time for me to smoosh him into a hug. I cared about him so much. I…I loved his song and everything about him.

"I won't let go," I said. "What I have is too great to ever give up."

For the first time in what felt like forever, we forgot about all of our troubles and enjoyed this joyous moment. I was so happy that I couldn't stop smiling. I also couldn't stop myself from shedding a few tears, though I tried to hide them. Despite all of our troubles, I haven't been this happy in a long time and it seems they haven't either. Whatever our future held, I knew one thing that I wanted more than anything. And that was to always have the Baudelaires in my life. I never wanted to be without them. I would never ever abandon them ever again no matter what. That's what I had wished for when I blew out the candles. I could never guarantee that my future would be happy and without misery, but as long as I had the Baudelaires, I knew I could survive anything that came my way.

* * *

I gazed out at the beautiful ocean glimmering in the afternoon sun. Two months had gone by since the islanders left and Klaus had suggested teaching me how to swim. I've been learning for a few weeks now and we always had a good time. When Beatrice was old enough, we were going to teach her how to swim too. Klaus promised me that when that day came that I would be the best swimmer there ever was. I had rolled my eyes and told him he was ridiculous, but I also couldn't stop blushing.

"Are you ready, Jane?" Klaus asked, coming over to take my hand.

I nodded. "I'm so excited," I said. "Let's go!"

I ran out to the water, pulling Klaus in with me. I stopped when I was up to my knees in the freezing water. Since the water wasn't that deep, I usually practiced by floating on my back or some doggy paddling.

I liked to splash him every now and then. Whenever I felt like it. He would just grin and then, it would be the beginning of our usual splashing war. I loved these days because we couldn't always go out and swim. Count Olaf always made us stay inside and do chores. We had built a new boat out of the other outrigger that had belonged to the islanders. The next flooding day was approaching though, we weren't sure if that meant we were going to return to civilization or not. We were enjoying our time here so much and Beatrice might be too young to be on a boat for an extended period of time.

Klaus began to overtake me in our splash war so I made a run for it out of the water. He chased after me, and playfully tackled me. He began to tickle my sides while he roared with laughter.

"Stop!" I cried between giggles, "Mercy! You're going to…"

"Fine," Klaus said, and he stopped tickling me but he was still laughing—so hard that his face was turning red. I couldn't help giggling at his expression and that only made Klaus laugh harder, falling back onto the sand beside me and clutching his sides.

"I'll get you for that," I said, and then did my own attempt to try and tickle him. I didn't have much success and ended up being the one tickled again.

Finally, he stopped when I repeatedly begged him to stop.

We beamed at each other and laid back on the sand, still bursting with fits of laughter.

"Klaus!" Violet called. "Jane!"

We sat up and saw that Violet was coming towards us, carrying Beatrice, and Sunny was carrying a picnic basket.

"We decided we would all have a picnic," Sunny announced as she reached us. We got up to help her spread out the blanket and set up the utensils and coconut shell bowls for us to eat. Sunny had been practicing making all sorts of dishes with the sources the islanders had neglected. She did her best to make sure every meal had its own little spice or flavor to it. Violet had built a device to help catch some fish and Klaus and I were responsible for gathering coconuts to use as dishes. We didn't drink coconut cordial anymore…well except for Olaf. The Baudelaires and I usually stuck to coconut milk or the water Violet managed to filter and purify.

"Bea!" I cried, as Violet passed the little three month old to me. I kissed her cheek.

"Pia!" She shrieked. Just like Sunny, Beatrice had her own way of saying things. I was getting better at translating what they said and knew she meant, "We're going to have a picnic with lots of yummy food."

Beatrice looked down and her eyes were glued to the ground.

"Saneda!" Beatrice shrieked, which meant, "I want to play with the sand!" She began to squirm in my arms and I lowered her on her tummy on the blanket. I sat down beside her.

"That's sand," I said, taking some of the sand in my hands and letting it fall through my fingers. She watched in amazement as the sand trickled down in front of her. She uttered a delighted squeal and clapped excitedly. "Do you want to see some?"

I took a bit of sand in my hand and placed it gently in her hand. She stared at the tiny particles of sand as if she had never seen it before. She had been too young to really play on the beach until now. Before she turned three months, she mostly liked snuggling in our arms to sleep like a little angel. She still loves to do that, but she's becoming more engaged with other activities. She wasn't supposed to eat solids yet so Violet let me feed her a bottle of sheep milk.

We were all enjoying our picnic and each other's company, when a sinister shadow fell upon us.

"Oh, how adorable!" Said an exaggerated voice from behind me as Beatrice began to cry. Klaus picked up Beatrice to try and comfort her. "You orphans look like you're having so much fun on your picnic."

I turned around to glare at Olaf, "Oh, leave us alone, Olaf, don't you have somewhere else to be?" I said.

"Actually, I should be somewhere," he paused for moment for a dramatic effect. "I should be anywhere, but on this island! You orphans, better hurry up with that boat you're all building!"

"We're already done, genius," I said, "If we weren't, we'd still be working on it."

"Then why aren't we getting off this island?" Olaf demanded. "I want to leave this instant so I can finally get your fortunes."

"We have to wait until the coastal shelf floods again," Klaus said. "The flooding should happen in a few days, or so."

"Well, it better flood in a few days or-"

"Or what, Olaf?" Violet asked. "Don't try to threaten us, there is nothing we can do to make nature do what we want. If we could, we probably would be off this island by now."

"Besides," Sunny added, thoughtfully, "I thought you liked this island, didn't you want this to be 'Olaf Land'?"

"I did for a bit," Olaf grumbled, "but there's nothing good about an island with only you orphans on it."

"Well, there's nothing good about having you join us off this island either," I said, "but, we are just going to have to deal with being in the same boat."

"I still don't want you orphans having picnics," he said, "especially when I wasn't invited. I am your King after all so you should be making picnics for me. In fact, this is my picnic and all of you are banned from having any food." He took out his wooden stick and pointed it at each of us in turn. We all sighed and got up off of the ground.

"I think we should all go inside now," Klaus said, suddenly, glancing out at the sea, "there are dark clouds approaching and I'm worried that we might have a storm soon."

We were all silent as we gazed out at the dark clouds. It sent a chill up my spine as I remembered the terrible storm that had brought us here. I just hoped that our journey back wouldn't be as detrimental.

"Clean up the picnic," Olaf demanded, "then you can come inside my arboretum."

* * *

Several weeks passed by since our picnic and we finally came to the decision that we should leave the island. It wasn't completely our choice since Count Olaf wouldn't leave us alone about it and, of course, the coastal shelf only flooded twice a year. We didn't want to miss out on the opportunity and regret it later.

During those weeks, Klaus and I managed to steal back _A Series of Unfortunate Events_. Count Olaf had stopped reading it after only a few pages because he said it was boring since he already knew a lot of the secrets in there and more. anyways, on the night before our voyage, we turned to the final entry written by both of our parents. Klaus read it aloud:

'_As we suspected, we are to be castaways once more. The others believe that the island should_ _stay far from the treachery of the world, and so this safe place is too dangerous for us. We_ _will leave by a boat B has built and named after me. I am heartbroken, but I have been_ _heartbroken before, and this might be the best for which I can hope. We cannot truly shelter_ _our children, here or anywhere else, and so it might be best for us and for the baby to_ _immerse ourselves in the world. We will be leaving with A and H, a strange thought, I know. H has always been pleasant, although A has always been an enemy. But since our paths crossed just a year ago, we have become fast friends and learned from our mistakes. A has been nothing short of a good friend and she continues to help care for me and the baby. By the way, if it is a girl we will name her Violet, and if it is_ _a boy we will name him Lemony.'_

When Klaus finished reading, the Baudelaires all laughed, except for me. Even Beatrice, sitting on my knee, uttered a happy shriek. Though I was smiling a little at the nice things the Baudelaire's mother had written about my own mother.

"Lemony?" Violet repeated. "They would have named me Lemony? Where did they get that idea?"

"From someone who died, presumably," Klaus said. "Remember the family custom?"

"Lemony Baudelaire," Sunny tried, and the baby laughed again.

"They never told us about a Lemony," Violet said, and ran her hair through her hands.

"Lemony Snicket," I said quietly, still staring at the page. I glanced at Beatrice. "Kit's brother. That's the man who was in the photograph…the one with his back turned."

"Right," Violet said, "of course, Kit's brother. I forgot that she had another brother."

Klaus poured us more coconut milk. "What do you think it means," he said, "'I've been heartbroken before?'"

"You know what 'heartbroken' means," Sunny said, and then nodded as the baby murmured "Abelard." Sunny was best at deciphering the infant's somewhat unusual way of speaking.

"That's definitely strange," I said, "but what's even more strange is that Lemony is still alive…I think. I saw him at the Hotel Denouement just before the blindfolded trial. Why would your mother want to name you after Lemony if he hadn't died?"

"That is strange," Klaus said, thoughtfully. "Maybe she thought he was dead before they became castaways."

"I suppose so," I said, though I couldn't stop thinking about it.

"I think it means we should leave," Violet said after a moment.

"Leave the island?" Klaus said. "And go where?"

"Anywhere," Violet said. "We can't stay here forever. There's everything we might need, but it's not right to be so far from the world."

"And its treachery?" Sunny asked.

"You'd think we would have had enough treachery for a lifetime," Klaus said, "but there's more to life than safety."

"Our parents left," Violet said. "Maybe we should honor their wishes."

I nodded with them, though I was feeling a little uncertain about returning. I was so much happier here and it was safe.

"Chekrio?" Beatrice said.

"We can't shelter her forever," Klaus said. "In any case, treachery will wash up on these shores."

"I'm surprised it hasn't already," I said. "Plenty of things have been shipwrecked here, but we haven't seen a single castaway."

"If we leave," Sunny asked, "what will we find?"

We fell silent. Since, we had no castaways wash ashore, we were out of touch with what was happening in the real world. Though we did discover a few scraps of articles in the coastal shelf over the course of these few months. Judging from the articles, there were still villains loose in the world, although a few volunteers also appeared to have survived all of the troubles that had brought us to the island. The articles, however, were from _The Daily Punctilio, _and so we could not be sure they were accurate. For all we knew, the islanders had spread the Medusoid Mycelium, and the entire world might be poisoned. This, however, seemed unlikely, as the world, no matter how monstrously it may be threatened, has never been known to succumb entirely. We also thought of all the people we hoped to see again, although, sadly, this also seemed unlikely, though not impossible.

"We won't know until we get there," Violet said.

"Well, if we're leaving, we'd better hurry," Klaus said. He stood up and walked to the bench, where his calendar was placed. Klaus had assured us that he believed his calendar to be fairly accurate. "The coastal shelf will flood soon."

"We won't need much," Sunny said. "We have quite a bit of nonperishable food."

"I've cataloged quite a bit of naval equipment," Violet said.

"I helped Klaus research about traveling at sea," I said. "I even took some detailed notes about it in my notebook."

"Jane and I found some good maps too," Klaus said, "but we should also make room for some of our favorite detritus. I have some novels by P. G. Wodehouse I've been meaning to get to."

"Blueprints," Violet said thoughtfully.

"My guitar," I said, winking at Klaus.

"My whisk," Sunny said, looking at the item that Friday had smuggled her, which had turned out to be a very handy utensil in helping prepare soft foods for Beatrice who was now old enough to have it in small quantities.

"Cake!" shrieked Beatrice, and we all laughed.

"Do we take this?" Violet asked, holding up the book from which Klaus had read out loud.

"I don't think so," Klaus said. "Perhaps another castaway will arrive, and continue the history."

"Count Olaf might take it away again too," I said. "We should probably hide it again before he returns."

"In any case," Sunny said, "the next castaways will have something to read."

"I hope their stories will be more cheerful than our own," I said, although I doubted that was true. "No one should ever have to go through what we did this year."

"So we're really leaving," Violet said.

We were silent again, and I felt sad again at the thought of returning. We didn't say much else because Count Olaf came in just as we were hiding the book in the shelves and we had to go to sleep. Olaf wouldn't stop talking about the plans he had for us when we returned. I didn't want to leave this place only to be shipped off to live at Olaf's filthy house while he snuck around hatching treacherous schemes. What I really wanted…was to maybe find that magic school. I know it seemed like a pipe dream right now. July 30th had passed only a few days ago and the letter had said the owl had to be sent before then. But maybe if I found some way to get to Hogwarts…I could explain everything. I kept wondering about the reply I had written about our troubles. Would anyone really read it? Was Hogwarts even real? Would they respect my wishes not to attend? I really hoped they wouldn't. A part of me still wished that the magic school would realize that I wanted more than anything to go to their school. But I knew it was impossible. How could I go to Hogwarts if I didn't even know if it existed?

I tossed and turned all night long thinking about the letter. I haven't used my Matilda powers very much over the past few months. Sometimes I would use them when Beatrice was around because it fascinated her that I could move her bottle of milk over to her without touching it. That wasn't too often though and other than that, I rarely used my magic. Klaus didn't either. We didn't like to talk about it much because it only made us sad and confused again about the letters.

In the morning we finished packing. Sunny was able to pack a great deal of food that would be perfect for the journey, and even managed to sneak in a few luxuries, such as some roe she had harvested from local fishes, and a somewhat bitter but still tasty apple pie. Klaus rolled several maps into a neat cylinder, and added a number of useful and entertaining items from the vast library. I gathered the notebooks of information we had gathered. We used fresh notebooks so we could stay organized and so we would have enough room in our regular commonplace books for our most significant observations. Violet added some blueprints and equipment to the pile, and made some adjustments to the boat we had built together.

Finally, the day for departure arrived, and as the coastal shelf began to flood Count Olaf forced us to carry the boat down to the beach and we began to load all of our supplies. Count Olaf sat in the shade of the palm trees and called orders for us to hurry up or fetch him some coconut milk. Violet and Sunny went to get Beatrice who was still fast asleep in her crib. They wanted to bring her over to where we had buried Kit Snicket so she could say goodbye. Of course, she was still too young to understand what happened to her mother and we didn't want to explain the whole story to her yet. She was only a baby after all.

I carried the pile of life jackets to the boat which was tied to a boulder to keep it at bay, following behind Klaus as he held the containers of nonperishable food. He placed them in the boat under one of the wooden benches and I did the same with the life jackets.

"Is that it?" I asked as I looked around the coastal shelf for anything else that looked useful.

"We shouldn't bring anything else," Klaus said, "We wouldn't want the boat to sink from too much weight."

"I suppose so," I said. "I wish we didn't have to leave our parents' book behind. We didn't really get a chance to read all about our parents."

"I know," Klaus said, "but some things were meant to remain a secret from the rest of the world. Like Dewey's catalog. Maybe we can't bring our parents back, but at least we can keep their secrets safe."

I nodded. "I guess there are secrets that maybe we aren't supposed to know," I said. "Maybe finding out about my parents will only make things worse. Worse than it already has been."

"It's not all bad," Klaus said, "You got to find out the truth about who you really are. And maybe your mother was a villain at some point. But you did say she changed, right? You were right when you told Olaf that redemption was possible. Maybe he didn't see it, but your mother certainly did."

I nodded. I still haven't told the Baudelaires about how I had a sister. I don't know why. I guess I was just afraid that if I spoke it aloud that I might jinx it and it might not be true.

"That's true," I said. "You're so great, Klaus." I pecked him on the cheek.

"You're pretty awesome too, Jane," Klaus said.

I looked out at the flooding coastal shelf and sighed heavily.

"What's wrong?" Klaus asked in concern. "Did I say something to upset you?"

"No, no," I said, shaking my head. "I'm just a little sad to go."

"Tell me about it," Klaus insisted.

"Well, everything has been so peaceful here," I said, then I glanced over to where Olaf was sitting under the shade of the palm trees, waiting as we prepared to set sail. "With the exception of Olaf, of course. But I've never been happier and…I just don't want that to go away."

Klaus sighed. "It won't, Jane," he said, "We're not going to go back to that."

"I'm not talking about you," I said, "_You_ were brave. You _are _brave. After all, you and your siblings were shielding Dewey from harm—from _me._"

Klaus sighed. "I know," he said, "but I know that girl holding that gun wasn't you. And I know I'm right. That's not who you are Jane. You're so much better than that. I can name a number of time when you were very brave."

"Thanks," I said, "but you're making it sound like I'm so innocent. I'm not. I'm a horrible person."

"Stop," Klaus said firmly. "I know we keep trying to blame ourselves for what happened, but maybe it wasn't anyone's fault. Maybe it was just fate. La Forza del Destino. But I don't think that villainy is your destiny. It's certainly not mine—at least I hope not. Look at what happened to your mother. She changed her destiny. Why can't we?"

I gazed sadly out at the sea.

"You made a mistake, Jane," Klaus said, "but so did I. I'm willing to forgive you for your mistakes and I hope you'll forgive mine."

"I do," I said honestly. "I'm glad that you forgive me, but what if it's not enough? What if I keep making mistakes like that?"

"I promise I won't let you make those mistakes again," Klaus said.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," I said, narrowing my eyes at him, and then I sighed. "Sorry. That was a little trite, but I'm just afraid that going back there will bring us misery again. I don't want this blissfulness to fade. What if this crooked world we're heading to tears us apart again for good? It's not just about making bad choices. I just don't want to lose you again. I don't want to lose_ us_."

"That's not going to happen," Klaus said. I frowned at him and then he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Look, I know I can't make any promises, but I know that I care about you very much, Jane. Whatever mistakes we've made in the past won't happen again if we're careful. We'll always be together no matter what."

"How can you be so certain?" I said.

"Because it's us," he said. Then he smiled and leaned forward to kiss my lips softly. I blushed and couldn't help return his smile. "Because it's you, Jane. That's how I'm sure."

"We'll make it through, Jane," Klaus continued when I didn't speak, "We have to."

"Together," I said, firmly.

Klaus smiled and a tear rolled down his cheek. "Together."

"See," I said, still in a bit of a funk, "this is what I'm talking about. I don't want to lose _these_ moments."

"Me neither," he said, "but we have to go. We have a responsibility. It's time for us to face our mistakes."

"I suppose we can't hide anymore," I said, realizing that he was right as always. "If we're going to reinvent ourselves, we can't do it here."

Then I thought of something. "Can I sing you a quick song?" I asked. "I've been writing a song and I think I'm ready for someone to hear it…it's for you."

Klaus smiled and nodded. I picked up my guitar and sat on the boulder near the boat. I began to play and sing:

_"You walked with me_

_Footprints in the sand_

_And helped me understand_

_Where I'm going_

_You walked with me_

_When I was all alone_

_With so much unknown_

_Along the way_

_Then I heard you say_

_I promise you_

_I'm always there_

_When your heart is filled with sorrow and despair_

_I'll carry you_

_When you need a friend_

_You'll find my footprints in the sand_

_I see my life_

_Flash across the sky_

_So many times have I been so afraid_

_And just when I_

_I thought I'd lost my way_

_You gave me strength to carry on_

_That's when I heard you say_

_I promise you_

_I'm always there_

_When your heart is filled with sorrow and despair_

_And I'll carry you_

_When you need a friend_

_You'll find my footprints in the sand_

_When I'm weary_

_Well I know you'll be there_

_And I can feel you_

_When you say_

_I promise you_

_Oh, I'm always there_

_When your heart is filled with sadness and despair_

_I'll carry you_

_When you need a friend_

_You'll find my footprints in the sand_

_When your heart is full of sadness and despair_

_I'll carry you_

_When you need a friend_

_You'll find my footprints in the sand..."_

When I was done, I put down the guitar down and Klaus came over to kiss me.

"You're amazing, Jane," he said. "And someday I know you're going to change the world."

I smiled and we embraced. I held onto him tightly for a moment. I didn't want to have to let go. I wanted to stay here forever. I had everything I wanted right here. Well, except Olaf, of course.

"Kla!" Beatrice's little voice greeted Klaus. "Ja!"

Klaus and I turned to watch as Violet carried Beatrice over to us. Sunny was following behind with a few more containers of food. Klaus relieved Sunny of the containers and put them in the boat. Beatrice was stretching her little arms out to me and Violet passed her over.

"Did you say bye bye to your mommy, darling?" I asked.

"Bia," Beatrice said and grabbed at my hair. She loved to play with my hair and I thought it was endearing. I sat with Beatrice on the boulder while the Baudelaires checked to make sure we had everything and that the boat was in good condition.

"Are we ready to immerse ourselves in the world?" Violet asked when they had finished.

"I just hope we don't immerse ourselves in the sea," Klaus said, with a small smile.

"Me too," Sunny said, and smiled back at her brother.

I began to feel a little sad again. "I hope we'll be together," I said, sadly.

Klaus put a hand on my shoulder to try and comfort me again. "I promise," he said.

"Can I see Beatrice?" Violet said. "I want to make sure these life jackets I've designed will fit properly."

I helped Violet put on Beatrice's lifejacket, which fit her perfectly. We all put on our own lifejackets and we were all set to go.

"Comay?" Beatrice asked, looking at each of us. She meant, "Am I going to come with you?"

"We'd never leave you behind, cutie pie," I said, smiling down at Beatrice.

"You're far too important," Violet said with a smile.

"Come aboard," Klaus said and I passed Beatrice to him.

"You little thing," Sunny said, using a term of endearment she had made up herself.

We began to climb into the boat. Soon the coastal shelf would flood, and we would be on our way, immersing ourselves in the world and leaving our sanctuary behind forever.

The baby paused and pointed at the nameplate on the back of the boat, gazing at it intently. Klaus crouched down so Beatrice could get a better look. Violet had torn off the nameplate with Olaf's name on it and the name beneath it opened another door of mysteries. She was gazing at the nameplate, and her forehead was wrinkled in concentration. Finally, she uttered a word. We gasped when we heard it, but we could not tell whether she was reading the word out loud or merely stating her own name.

_Beatrice._

* * *

**Review! **

**I'll try to update soon but I have SATs this weekend and jprom (which will be Gatsby themed!) so it might be a little delayed!**

**Also the songs are _Never Say Never_ by the Fray of course, and _Footprints in the Sand_ by Leona Lewis.**


	28. The Storm

**New chapter!**

**ENJOY! :)**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: The Storm**

We traveled for a number of days, and found that this time around, was considerably more pleasant. We had plenty of good food to eat and the boat sailed smoothly. Sometimes we had to row, but not as frequently as the last time. Count Olaf was his usual self, ordering us around and asking us to do ridiculous things for his amusement. He went on about all the things he was going to buy using our fortunes.

"Now, I'll be able to get three fortunes," Olaf said, "The Baudelaire fortune, the Murray fortune, and, oh yes, the Snicket fortune!" He laughed wickedly.

"No way," I said. "You're not touching Beatrice's fortune."

"And how are you going to stop me?" Olaf said, narrowing his eyes at me.

I scowled, looking away.

"That's what I thought," Olaf said. "You're far too weak to be able to stop me. Now, get back to rowing."

I sighed, and continued rowing, still feeling angry. I knew there was not much any of us could do to protect ourselves from Olaf. It made me worry that by going out into the real world, we would only find ourselves in worse circumstances in Count Olaf's clutches. I wanted this to end. I wanted to be free to do as I pleased and to be able to say whatever I wanted without being told I was wrong or weak.

Klaus placed a hand on my shoulder.

"It's okay," he said. "We'll find a way to get out of this."

I nodded, but didn't look at Klaus as I tried to blink back my tears. My worries from the day we left had disappeared for a few days, but now they returned. I was afraid that if we were stuck in Olaf's clutches that he would hurt the Baudelaires and Beatrice or he would try to separate us again. It made it worse feeling so helpless.

"Quit your whispering, Blondie!" Olaf growled. "Actually, now that we're stuck on this boat together, I was contemplating what to do with all of you. Well, I can't keep all of you in my clutches. After what happened last time and many times before, I can't afford to have any of you escaping. I don't need all three Baudelaires to get my hands on your fortune. I think it's time to finally eliminate one of you while we're in the same boat."

"No one is going to be eliminated," Violet said, "You need all of us if you're going to make it to shore in one piece."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about you," Olaf said, "I was thinking about getting rid of bookworm over there." He moved over to Klaus. "I'm getting tired of you flirting with my henchwoman."

"Leave Klaus alone," I said. "He's not doing anything." I moved to stand in front of Klaus. Olaf's threats to throw Klaus overboard terrified me. There wasn't much I could do if he decided to push him overboard. But I had to try. I couldn't let him take them from me.

"I'll do whatever I want," he said. "And there's nothing you can do about it, Blondie."

He stepped forward and tried to shove me aside. I caught myself before I could fall completely over. I regained my ground quickly, and my hands flew out and I pushed Olaf back with all my strength. This time he was the one who stumbled back a bit. His eyes flashed dangerously at me and I found myself trembling with fear.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack of thunder in the distance. We all stopped what we were doing to look in the direction of a group of dark clouds moving quickly in. Another storm. I was filled with dread as I realized we would once again endure a horrendous storm that could kill us all.

"Look at those dark clouds," Violet said, "A very bad storm is approaching, not unlike the last storm we faced at sea."

"I'll deal with you later," Olaf growled at me, but he left Klaus alone.

"What are we going to do?" I asked. "We're in the middle of the ocean."

Klaus nodded. "Even with all of the equipment and food and preparation," he said, "I'm not sure if we're prepared for this."

There was another crack of thunder followed by lightning. Beatrice began to cry and Violet picked her up.

"I don't know what we can do," Violet replied. "I guess we can try to keep the boat afloat. We managed to sail through Hurricane Herman without being shipwrecked somewhere, so maybe there is a chance we can survive this."

We took our positions. Violet went to control the rudder while Klaus managed the sail. I began to row. Violet handed Beatrice to Sunny who tried to calm her wails.

"I'm the captain of this ship," Olaf grumbled at Violet. "I decide what we do. I say we keep going."

We ignored him and carried on with our tasks.

In the distance, lightning flashed across the sky followed by an earsplitting boom. The Baudelaire's and I jumped, Beatrice began to cry again, and Sunny was trying to soothe her.

"What if we get shipwrecked again, or something worse?" Sunny said looking out at the sea. Nobody answered her. I followed her gaze and saw that the nice, calm blue water had turned into dark gray, violent waves, which crashed roughly against the sides of the boat. Gushes of wind swept by and my hair was all over the place. There wasn't much rain yet, it was just a drizzle since the dark clouds hadn't moved above us yet. Another flash of lightning lit up the sky followed by another roar of thunder. The storm seemed to be getting worse. Then, the clouds moved closer, bringing pelting down rain at us and soon enough we were soaking wet.

"Do you see any signs of caves, land, or any place where we can find shelter?" Violet asked Klaus.

"No," Klaus said shaking his head and wiping the rain drops off of his glasses. "I can barely _see_ anything."

The waves began to get rougher and rougher, swaying the boat this way and that. The sail wasn't strong enough to do much for the boat anymore and Klaus gave up trying to maneuver it. He grabbed an oar and helped me row.

Violet gasped loudly. "Violet, what is it?" Klaus asked.

"Look," Violet said, "Over there!"

We followed Violet's gaze and through the fog, we could make out a beam of light.

"A lighthouse!" I cried. "We must be near the shore."

"We need to move towards it," Klaus said.

"How are we going to do that?" Violet cried. "I can barely steer the boat. The water is too rough."

"Olaf, I would suggest you grab a paddle and help us row," I said to the villain who had been cowering in the corner of the boat, clinging desperately onto the sides.

"I will do no such thing," Olaf grumbled.

"Well then prepare to be knocked into the sea," I said. "The Great Unknown is probably searching for prey at the moment."

That made his eyes widen and he grabbed a paddle to help us row.

The water was getting rougher and I almost fell out. Klaus grabbed onto me to prevent me from falling.

"We're not losing you," he said, with a small smile. "I told you we would make it through together."

I nodded, but I still worried that this storm was going to tear us apart. I took his hand and we held onto each other as the boat continued to rock this way and that.

Violet continued working with the rudder and the rest of us rowed as hard as we could in the direction of the lighthouse. But as we got closer, our small hope turned once more into fear. Through the fog we could now also make out something big and jagged.

"Rocks," I said, in horror.

"There's no way to avoid them," Violet said and I could hear tears in her voice. "The wind is far too strong and look at those waves."

Violet was right. Massive waves were crashing against the rocks and soon they would carry our boat towards those sharp rocks if we didn't do something.

"What do you mean we can't avoid them?" Olaf said, sounding frightened. "Keep steering away from them, orphans or I'll throw you overboard."

The waves were getting increasingly monstrous and one crashed into the boat, flooding it with water. Klaus and I dropped our paddles and desperately tried bail out the water with a bucket so the boat didn't sink. Our attempts were useless. The boat tipped again and for a second I thought it was going to flip over completely. We clung onto the sides of the boat so we wouldn't fall in. Several containers of food fell out of the boat and disappeared into the dark depths of the sea. The boat regained its balance but the wind was so strong. Suddenly, there was a loud crunch and we looked in horror up at the mast as it, tumbled into the sea.

"What are we going to do?" Klaus asked Violet once again, even more frantic.

"I don't know," Violet cried. "I can't invent anything to get us out of a storm, Klaus. Haven't you read anything about surviving a storm at sea?"

"Most of those end in a shipwreck," Klaus said. "Man can't defy the power of nature."

"So is this it?" I said, as I came to terms what I had already known. "Will we be castaways once more? Or will we meet the same fate that our friends did?"

"No," Sunny said. "Our parents were able to survive their journey back. There has to be hope for us too. We promised Kit we would take care of Beatrice."

"Whatever happens we have to stay together," I said, looking at Klaus. He looked back at me, and our eyes met. Blue to brown.

Just then, a huge wave came crashing down on the boat, sending it rocking and just as I predicted, we were toppling over. I clung onto the side, but I didn't let go of Klaus' hand. Our eyes were still locked, even when my hand slipped from his grasp and I began to fall into the water.

"Jane!" Klaus cried, and tried to grab for my hand again, but I had fallen too far.

He came after me, letting himself fall. The boat had flipped over and now the violent waves were carrying us around. Violet, Sunny, Beatrice, and Count Olaf had fallen in the water too. Violet was holding onto Beatrice and Sunny. Klaus was trying desperately to reach me, but the waves had already pulled me away from the boat.

"Jane!" Klaus cried.

"Klaus!" I cried back. I was beginning to panic because I didn't know how to swim and even with the lifejacket on, the waves continued to crash over my head and make it impossible to stay above the water.

I made my legs kick as hard as I could, moving towards the Baudelaires. But the waves only kept pushing me back and down. Another wave crashed over me and then, another. I lost sight of the Baudelaires and even Klaus had disappeared now. I was all alone.

"Klaus!" I cried again when I had reached the surface again. "Violet! Sunny! Beatrice!"

I thought I heard someone call my name, but it was muffled by another wave that crashed down onto me. I couldn't reach the surface and I felt myself hit something hard and sharp. I grimaced in pain and tried desperately to get to the surface. Everything was black and I couldn't see. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't…

* * *

A bright light. Brighter than anything I'd ever seen hung over me like the blazing sun, it's oppressive heat pounding down on me and the hot sand. I had to squint in the brightness. I tried to make sense of where I was, but my body felt like it was paralyzed, the most I could do was stare at the bright sun hanging in the endless blue sky.

The sound of rushing water filled my ears in time to here the crash. It came again and again, softening ever so slightly after every crash of the water. I recognized the sound of waves crashing onto the shore. I realized I must still be on the island, dreaming about what might happen if we left. Maybe it was better if we stayed here forever. We would never have to endure a storm like that or find ourselves separated.

I found the image fading, but I didn't want to fall asleep or leave the image behind. I fought to open my eyes again and relaxed when I found a blue sky. Except, now I was soaking wet, my back submerged in shallow water. I felt a searing pain in my leg and I had a huge, pounding headache. My throat felt raw. Everything hurt and I couldn't find the strength to move. Every breath brought a shooting pain to my ribs. This was not at all like the paradise I had found myself in only seconds ago. Was I dreaming again? I needed to wake up. I didn't want this to be real.

I tried to move my fingers around. It didn't feel like I was dreaming. The pain felt very real and I found myself wincing aloud. I realized that the Baudelaires might have met the same fate and were lying somewhere along the shore of this beach. I had to find them.

I uttered a cry, unable to form words yet.

"Klaus," I tried again but my voice was too hoarse to be heard. "Klaus." I knew then, that I had to get up. I had to keep moving and find then. When I found them, I told myself that I could rest. But I wouldn't give up until then.

I started by wiggling my toes and moving my arms. Then, I tried to lift myself up, using my arms to give me a boost. I had to stop before my head was even off the ground. I tried again. The pain I felt was unbearable and I cried out through gritted teeth, but I kept going until I was sitting upright. I looked around me, trying to see if the Baudelaires were nearby.

The beach, however, was deserted. No one was around. I used all of my strength to get into a standing position, despite the shooting pain in my leg. when I stood, I felt blood trickling down my leg and kept my head looking up. I needed something to wrap around the gash to stop the bleeding until I could find help.

"Klaus," I called again. "Violet! Sunny!"

I stumbled forward onto the sand and moved a bit up the beach, searching for any sign of a boy with brown hair and glasses.

"Klaus!" I cried, desperately as I began to panic. "Klaus!"

No one returned my cries and I found myself beginning to sob. I was all alone. What if the Baudelaires never made it to shore and were… No I couldn't let myself think like that. They had to be here somewhere. I had to find them.

My foot brushed against something smooth and I looked down to find a smooth stone. I picked it up, and held it in my hands, as if somehow that stone could tell me where my friends were.

I heard a soft splash and I whirled around to see someone coming towards me. A tall, lean figure who staggered towards me with a pair of shiny eyes. Olaf.

"Olaf," I said, not very happy to see him. "You're here."

Olaf looked me up and down. "You're not looking too good," he said. "Worse than when you were in my clutches. I can't have a dying orphan on my hands."

"We need to find help," I said. "I've been searching for the Baudelaires, but I can barely move. They have to be around here somewhere."

"Or they could have drowned in the ocean," Olaf said. "I wouldn't mind that."

"They didn't drown," I said, angrily. "Help me find them. They are here. I know it."

I staggered forward a few steps and a few more.

"Help me find them!" I spat at Olaf, desperately. "Look for them!"

"They're not here, Blondie," Olaf growled at me. "And even if they were, they're probably dead. It looks like we're the only survivors."

"But what about Beatrice?" I asked, feeling a lump in my throat. "She was just a baby."

"Who cares," Olaf said. "They're dead and there's nothing either one of us can or want to do about it."

"No," I said in horror. "Klaus promised. He said we would be together. We were so happy together. I can't give up on him. He wouldn't leave me alone again."

"What else can we do?" Olaf said. "You can't even walk. If you don't get medical attention, you'll probably join the Baudelaires."

"Maybe it's better that way," I said. "I don't want to be without them. I can't…"

I began to sob again.

Suddenly, I heard a loud snap and my head whipped around.

"Klaus!" I cried. "Klaus!"

But it wasn't Klaus who stood before us. A tall man with a long white beard and half-moon spectacles gazed at us. He was dressed in a strange robe like outfit and his crystal blue eyes were soft. His face was kind and I was immediately filled with a feeling of security as I stared at this complete stranger. There was another person beside him, though he was so enormous that he didn't appear to be quite human. He was probably ten times bigger than Olaf's associate who had looked like neither a man nor a woman. He carried an umbrella in one hand.

"Who are you?" Olaf sneered, stepping towards them. "Why are you wearing those ridiculous outfits?"

"Are you castaways too?" I asked, nervously.

"Who are you?" I asked, in confusion. "How did you just appear here out of nowhere?"

"I am Albus Dumbledore," the man with the white beard announced. "And this is my dear friend, Hagrid. We're here for the Miss Murray."

"That's me," I said. "But I'm confused. I don't mean to insult you, but I'm afraid I don't know who you are."

"I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Albus Dumbledore said with a kind smile. He extended a hand.

My mouth fell open and I stumbled back, then winced when it pained my leg. I reached my hand out, nervously to shake his.

"It's nice to meet you," I said. I knew fully well what kind of people they were. They were magic.

"It can't be…" I said after a moment, my voice trailing off. "Am I dreaming? I'm sorry, sir. I just…I can't believe this is real."

"I understand," Albus Dumbledore said. "I can assure you that it is all true. You are indeed a witch."

"I think I do know it's true," I said, "I have strange powers. I can move things without touching them and one time I sort of teleported somewhere."

Albus Dumbledore nodded. "And now you have the chance to come to Hogwarts," he said. "There you will learn more about magic and how to control it."

Count Olaf looked from me to Albus Dumbledore and then at Hagrid. He erupted into a roaring laugh. He was clutching his sides, and pointing at Albus Dumbledore as if he thought this was some kind of joke.

"What are you laughing at?" I said, irritated. "You were the one who believed Madame Lulu's fortune-telling was real. Not to mention one of your associates was a hypnosis."

Count Olaf continued to laugh.

"Oh, I know all about magic," Count Olaf said, "It's you who has been too stupid to realize it this whole time."

"That's what you were trying to keep from me," I said, "I know. I managed to find a letter."

His eyes widened and became very shiny. "I don't care who you are you crazy old man," Olaf growled. "You're not taking my orphan! She belongs to me. I'm her legal guardian and so I get to decide where she goes."

Hagrid's aimed his umbrella at Olaf, his eyes narrowed into a glare. "How dare yeh insult Dumbledore!" he roared, raising his umbrella at Olaf.

Albus Dumbledore merely held out his hand, not bothered by Olaf's insults. "Now, now Hagrid," he said, "there's no need for that." Then he looked at Olaf. Even though his face was calm, I could tell how disgusted he was by how awful Olaf was to me. "I think Miss Murray has endured enough misery because of you. She will be taken somewhere far away from you. I will not let you harm her again."

I looked at him with wide eyes and I knew he meant it.

Olaf reached out his scrawny hands to grab my arms. "Jamie is perfectly safe with me," he said, "I'm not a bad man. I only want to protect this child from harm. You may leave, knowing that they're perfectly safe here."

"Professor McGonagall received your message, Miss Murray," Albus Dumbledore said to me. He looked at me with a hint of sadness in his kind, blue eyes. "You do not need to fret. We know all about what happened to you. Whatever mistakes you have made, we will have them resolved. There's always a chance for us to change. After learning of your circumstances, I decided that it would be best for me to come here in person with Hagrid. Hagrid is the groundskeeper at Hogwarts."

"Nice ter meet yeh," Hagrid said, and I reached out my hand to shake his rather large hand. The large man smiled back at me, making him look less frightening. Hagrid squeezed my hand and I realized how strong he was too. I was a little relieved when he let go, but I gave him a small smile so he wouldn't see my discomfort and he would know how much I appreciated him being here.

My smile faded when I caught wind of the furious look on Olaf's face. His one eyebrow was raised at me and his eyes gleamed in rage. "You little brat," he snarled at me. "You had a letter this whole time and you didn't tell me? And you were communicating with those freakish people! It will all come to an end though. You're not going anywhere. You're going to stay with me. I may have lost the Baudelaire fortune, but I'm not going to lose yours too."

I shrugged his arm off of my shoulder and stepped away. "I'm not going anywhere with you," I said.

Olaf raised his arm angrily, about to strike me, when suddenly he was flung back, his body flying back onto the sand. I looked up to see Hagrid aiming his umbrella at Olaf and I realized it must be some kind of magical object.

"Yer not gonna touch the girl," he said, "I gave a boy a pig tail once for not behavin'. Taught 'im a lesson."

Hagrid looked at Albus Dumbledore sheepishly. The headmaster didn't seem too mad at Hagrid for losing his temper.

But then I remembered the Baudelaires and I turned to Albus Dumbledore in fear.

"My friends," I said, "I don't know where they are. We were sailing away from this island we were staying on. And there was a terrible storm. We were shipwrecked again. But I can't find them and I'm too weak to be of much help. Please, sir. You have to help me find them. I can't go anywhere until I know that they're okay."

Albus Dumbledore placed a hand on my head. "Your friends are all right," he said. "We will take you to the hospital to be taken care of for now. I sent word to Renée Murray that you would be arriving there soon."

I frowned. Renée? The woman Esmé hated? She was also my aunt?

Olaf scowled. "I knew she was behind this," Olaf growled.

"Why don't you come with us, Miss Murray?" Albus Dumbledore said to me. "Hagrid will take care of Count Olaf."

I looked from Albus Dumbledore to Count Olaf who looked furious.

"You're not going anywhere, Blondie," Olaf growled. "You don't scare me, you baffoons!"

Hagrid raised the umbrella again. "Watch yer tongue yeh wretched man!" he said.

"Shall we?" Albus Dumbledore said, and held his hand out.

Again I was torn. Count Olaf was certainly a wretched man, but he was also someone I had depended on during my captivity. I was so used to being told what to do and being manipulated to not trust anyone. The world was a dangerous place with many people that wanted to hurt me. Everyone I knew had failed the Baudelaires and I in some way. Except for the Quagmires and Melissa. But they weren't here. Could I really make the decision to go with Albus Dumbledore and put my trust in another person's hands? At least with Olaf I knew what to expect. It was the unknown that terrified me.

"I'm scared," I admitted to him, my eyes shifting from his kind face to Hagrid's equally kind expression.

"Come," Albus Dumbledore said gently, "You have nothing to fear." Even though I was afraid, I felt like I could trust this man. Something told me that what he said was the truth.

I nodded shakily. "Okay," I said.

I reached out and took his hand.

"Let go of that man's hand this instant!" Olaf growled at me. "You can't take my orphan from me! If she's going with anyone, it should be me! I am her legal guardian and I order you to give her to me!"

"We will discuss this matter later," Albus Dumbledore said. "I promised Jamie that I wouldn't let you harm her and I intend to follow through with that."

Hagrid grabbed Count Olaf's arms and the villain also realized how strong the man was.

"Get your hands off of me, you beast!" he demanded. But Hagrid maintained his grip and Count Olaf was useless.

"Let's get yeh to where yeh belong," Hagrid said as he began to push the villain down the beach towards a vehicle that I hadn't noticed before. It was a motorcycle with a little sidecar.

"Where is Hagrid taking him?" I asked.

"To the authorities," Albus Dumbledore said with a wink. "We will settle this matter once and for all. I believe Klaus Baudelaire is also due to start school soon."

I nodded, feeling my eyes filling with tears at the mention of Klaus.

"Where are they?" I asked.

"Safe," Albus Dumbledore said, "We must be leaving though. You need to be taken to a hospital immediately. I need you to take hold of my arm and hold it very tightly." I did as he said, though I was very confused. "I have a way we can travel there within a few minutes. But be prepared that you might feel very uncomfortable for a few minutes."

Before I could ask any questions, everything around me turned black and I was being pressed very hard in every direction. I felt like I was back in the stormy waters being pushed this way and that. I also couldn't breathe again and my leg hurt a lot. every part of me felt like it was being pushed and pulled, my eyes were being pushed back into my head. I felt like I was traveling through a tight rubber tube.

The darkness faded then and I could finally breathe. I felt dizzy and it took me a moment to realize I was in a small alley. I had fallen to the ground as soon as we arrived and I didn't think I had the strength to pull myself up again.

"I'm sorry about that," Albus Dumbledore said, "but it was the quickest way to travel here."

"I can't get up," I said. "I'm too weak."

"Would you mind if I carried you?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I don't mind," I said.

Albus Dumbledore bent down to scoop me up in his arms. I felt my body getting weaker. I was losing a lot of blood from my leg and other places that I was wounded.

"Thank you," I said to him. "I appreciate your kindness. I hope I can somehow do something for you in return."

Albus Dumbledore smiled sadly down at me. "There is no need for that, Miss Murray," he said, "You have suffered enough already."

"How do you know so much about me?" I asked. "We've only just met."

"Your aunt, Renée found out about your circumstances," he said, "She sent us the articles from The Daily Punctilio and the V.F.D. dispatches. I have been following your story for quite sometime even before Professor McGonagall showed me your letter."

"Is that how you were able to find me all of those times?" I said. "I moved quite frequently but the letters seemed to follow me wherever I went."

"Underage wizards and witches are easy for the Ministry of Magic to track," Albus Dumbledore explained, "We've been trying to send you letters for quite a while now. But you were always moving from place to place and in the beginning it was harder to locate you since you were under a different name. When Renée discovered you were Jamie Murray, she wanted to go find you. But then Count Olaf kidnapped you and it became impossible to get to you. We decided sending a letter might confuse you at first. So Renée decided to send her owl to look for you."

My eyes widened as I realized. "Spirit," I said. "He was her owl."

The headmaster nodded. "Renée was always good with magical creatures," he said, "She and a friend taught the owl how to read and spell words."

"Spirit knew how to spell my name," I said, with a nod.

He nodded. "We can talk more about this at another time," he said. "But when we round the corner we mustn't speak about magic."

"Okay," I said, nodding in understanding.

Albus Dumbledore rounded the corner and we were now on the sidewalk. He carried me inside the hospital and I was silent as he addressed the front desk. Help came almost immediately, several doctors wheeled a gurney over and Albus Dumbledore placed me down onto it.

"What happened?" one of the nurses asked.

"It was a shipwreck," Albus Dumbledore said.

"She's in very serious condition," a doctor said. "We'll need to take her directly to surgery."

Albus Dumbledore nodded. "Do whatever you can to make her well," he said.

"Are you going to leave me?" I asked the headmaster.

"I must part for now," he said, placing a hand on my forehead, "but I promise we will see each other again when you are feeling better. The sooner you heal, the better."

"Thank you," I called to him again as I was rushed into an elevator. The doors closed and I was surrounded by the two doctors. Suddenly, I grew very afraid. The last hospital I was in, the doctors were Olaf's associates in disguise and they tried to hurt Violet. But before I could even begin to panic, a gas mask was pressed to my face and suddenly the pain in my leg subsided. I grew very tired and my eyes closed, too tired to even try to make sense of what had happened since I reached the shore. Klaus was the last image that came to mind before I slipped into nothingness.

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	29. Evidence

**Finally it's here! :) Sorry for the delay...i had finals :( BUT I'm completely done now so hopefully i'll have more time to write! :)**

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**Chapter Sixteen: Evidence**

There was a strange beeping noise like some kind of alarm. I didn't want to wake up though. I didn't want to leave the peace I had behind. Eventually, I had to return to reality. The strange beeping noise continued and made it hard to slip into unconciousness. I opened my eyes to a dark room. it didn't take me long to process that I was in a hospital room. An IV was attached to my arm and I realized the beeping noise was from the heart monitor. My heartbeat was steady and seemed healthy. That was a good sign. Then, I heard another noise like someone snoring and something caught my eye. Someone was sitting in a chair against the wall to my left. The person was sleeping with their hat covering their face. The person seemed familiar and it only took me a moment before I knew it was Monty Kensicle. I was so relieved to know that he had survived the fire at Hotel Denouement, but seeing him also filled me with despair. I still didn't know what had happened to Beatrice, his niece, let alone the Baudelaires.

At that moment, Monty Kensicle's snore pattern faltered and he jerked awake, taking off his hat and looking from side to side as if someone were watching him. Then, he noticed I was awake and gazing at him curiously.

"I'm sorry did I wake you?" he asked.

I shook my head, but stopped when it hurt.

"What happened?" I asked. "Where am I?"

"Don't you remember?" Monty asked. "There was a shipwreck. You were brought to this hospital in the city."

"The doctors took you into surgery," Monty continued, "You're in poor condition. You swallowed a lot of sea water and your body is quite dehydrated."

No wonder why everything hurt. My throat felt like sand paper, and my leg still hurt. It was bandaged up where I had been cut by those sharp rocks.

I closed my eyes, trying to remember what happened, but it was as if a wall had been put up to block them out. I knew there was a shipwreck from Monty explaining it to me, and I knew that I was afraid. That strong feeling lingered in my mind as I tried to push past the wall. What had I been so worried about?

My eyes widened as I remembered Albus Dumbledore and Hagrid appearing and taking care of me. It seemed like some kind of dream—almost too good to be true that these two wizards had saved me yesterday. But my main concern right now, was for the Baudelaires.

"I'm sorry," I said, sadly. "I failed you. I have no idea where Beatrice is, let alone the Baudelaires. They could be in grave danger and I can't do anything about it."

Monty shook his head and scooted his chair closer to my bedside. "Don't apologize," he said. "You're not at fault. The Baudelaires and Beatrice are fine."

"Are they here?" I asked. "I want to see them."

"You can't go anywhere right now," Monty said, "Not in your condition."

"Where are they?" I asked again.

"Beatrice is here at the hospital," Monty said. "She's being treated, though, fortunately she's in good condition. As for the Baudelaires, I'm afraid they're not here right now." Monty looked very sad for some reason.

I could hear the heart monitor speed up slightly as I feared the worst was happening to them.

"Please," I begged him. "Please tell me…Where's Klaus?" my voice had risen an octave as tears glistened in my tired eyes. I wasn't ready to let go of him just yet and it felt like the more time I spent in this hospital, the farther apart we were.

"They were here," Monty said, "but they were taken out of here as soon as they were treated."

"Where?" I asked again, "Why?"

"They're still wanted for many crimes, Jamie," Monty said, "unfortunately, they'll be spending the next few days under the supervision of authorities. At least until the trial."

My eyes widened and my heart sank. "Trial?" I said, in despair, as I recalled how the blindfolded trial had been filled with corruption by the judges. Olaf's associates had been among the three judges and of course, they helped Olaf kidnap Justice Strauss.

"I'm so sorry, Jamie," Monty said, putting a hand on my forehead. "I wish there was something I could do."

"But what about Olaf?" I cried, "The Baudelaires didn't do anything wrong. Count Olaf framed them. He did it!"

"I know," Monty said, "but the authorities don't. They're not naming anyone guilty until a full trial has been conducted. In the meantime, the accused aren't allowed to be walking around freely in case they try to escape. Count Olaf has been put on what they call house arrest. Not the best idea, but I hope it will give us the time we need to plan a strategy."

"Let me go too!" I cried, "I want to be with them! I don't care if I'm behind bars! I just want to be with the Baudelaires!" I started to sob.

"I'm sorry, Jamie," Monty said, "but that's up to the authorities and not me. We'll just have to wait for the trial and present our evidence to prove that horrible man guilty for the crimes your friends did not commit."

"What about the things we did do?" I asked, tears pouring down my face, "We did bad things too. What will happen if they realize that? They'll put them in jail for sure."

Monty pursed his lips. "They may not go to jail," he said, "there are other ways of punishment that won't involve such things as children going to prison. Of course, it depends on the degree of the punishment."

"But they can't be tried," I cried, "no one will believe them and then they'll be in jail for the rest of their lives."

"We'll find a way to help them," he said.

I averted my eyes, feeling helpless and vulnerable without the Baudelaires. Without Klaus. I couldn't fathom the idea that they would be locked up in a jail cell. The thought reminded me of the Village of Fowl Devotees when Olaf framed them for killing Jacques Snicket…Jacques Snicket… My fault. My fault. I knew it was true. I had been helpless. Just like I was helpless to save the Baudelaires.

"This is my fault," I whispered, "it's all my fault. I should be going to jail, not them."

"Truthfully, I think none of you should be put in jail," Monty said. "But it's not your fault, Jamie."

"It is," I insisted, my eyes filled with tears. "I led them to the basement with Olaf and they were there to set the fire. Because of me. I'm a terrible person, Monty."

"No, you're not, Jamie," he said, "I know terrible people. Count Olaf is a terrible person. You and the Baudelaires went through horrible things. When the jury realizes the situation you were in, they'll understand."

"How can you know that?" I said. "After everything that has happened to us? We have been failed so many times by the authorities. They're supposed to protect us and they fail every time."

Monty nodded. "I don't know that for sure," Monty said, "But I do know that if we play our cards right, we could achieve justice for them. Right now, we can't do anything."

"Well, if they're going to jail, then so am I," I declared.

I tried to sit up, but it made my head spin and I had to lie back down.

"You're not supposed to be getting out of bed," Monty said, "and I don't think you going to jail will help your friends. They need you now more than ever, and you know what I'm talking about. You're their only hope that people will believe them."

I frowned. "But I don't have any evidence to prove them innocent," I said, "I don't have anything."

Monty gave me a small smile and pulled out what looked like the small suitcase Olaf had given me to keep my belongings in. I knew if I searched its contents that I would find a familiar snowsuit, as well as several other outfits belonging to Esmé, and I would find the owl figurine. I gasped.

"You left this behind and I thought it was too important to dismiss," Monty said. "And that's not all I have."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a round black object. My eyes widened.

"That's the tape," I gasped, "the one the Quagmires and I took from…" I shuddered as I remembered stealing it from Count Olaf's tower room and the events that followed. "Have you seen what is on it?"

Monty nodded and grimaced. "You can view the tape as well as you want," he said, "but I warn you that it's very unpleasant."

"I don't think I want to see it," I said, "at least not right now. Maybe its better not to poison myself with certain secrets."

Monty nodded again and we were both silent for a moment.

"And that's not all I've got," he said, after a moment, "but it's not safe to discuss it here. It's thanks to you that I've got this tape and of course, there's your notebook, Klaus' common place book, and my books." He also pulled out a small book titled _The Bad Beginning_ and a second one called _The Reptile Room_. "I have written a number of books so far and it seems I need to write one more."

"That's incredible," I said, as I examined the contents of the two samples of his books. I realized _The Bad_ _Beginning_ contained the Baudelaire's first unfortunate event when they were living with Count Olaf. "Thank you," I added.

"The world needs to hear your story," Monty said, "no matter how dreadful it is, I want to give you the justice you deserve. Every one of those books contains nothing shy of the truth. Of course, I did take out the parts with your magic. I understand how big of a secret it is."

"So is that it?" I asked. "What if it's not enough?"

"Well, there's something else too…" Monty added.

"What is it?" I asked.

"When the doctors were in here treating your poor condition," he said, "they found a chip in your wrist. Apparently, it's some kind of tracker. They're still trying to figure out what it does, but it might turn out to be good news for us."

"It was in my wrist?" I asked, looking down at my right wrist, which was wrapped in gauze to conceal the cut.

"Yes," Monty replied, looking disgusted, "my guess is that Olaf or one of his associates put it in when you didn't notice."

"That's probably why he was able to find me every time I escaped," I muttered, "and the Baudelaires too. Oh, if only I knew, I would've stayed away from them…it might have saved them a lot of trouble. To think, this entire time, I've been a magnet for it."

Monty nodded. "It's awful, I know," he said, "but it also had a camera on it and there might be footage on there that could be used to our advantage."

"So that everyone can see the truth," I said, "in case the jury or the judges are imposters like last time, we'll at least have evidence that not even they can say no to. Of course it depends on when they stuck it in me."

"It must have been after I saw you last," I said, "Before I was sent to the jail at the Village of Fowl Devotees. Olaf didn't know about you until much later. At least your Monty Kensicle persona. If he did know about it before, he probably would have done something horrible to me," I said, "and perhaps to you…" I shuddered. "Maybe…it has…your brother's…" I trailed off, but I didn't need to finish for Monty to understand what I was saying.

"Well, at least his last words to you," Lemony said.

"More than that," I said, my voice faltering. I looked up at him. "I saw it…"

Monty raised his eyebrows.

"I-I never told anyone…" I mumbled, feeling more tears coming, "it was just so awful…and I know it's my fault…I saw the whole thing…it was awful…and I didn't save him…I'm sorry…I tried, but Olaf had me locked in that jail cell…" I began to sob again, the tears falling into my hands. "It was my fault he died…just like it's my fault that Dewey died…and now I'm going to be the reason for the Baudelaires' misery…I'm sorry…maybe the Baudelaires shouldn't be going to jail…it should be me."

"None of that was your fault," Monty said gently, "You mean Olaf forced you to watch that terrible deed?"

I nodded. "I'm sorry…" I said, "I was in the cell beside him…I should've been clever enough to help him escape. It was one of the hardest things to record in my notebook…but I think…in a way…writing it down saved me…It gave me solace…so does singing…he asked me to sing to him before Olaf came. I was too afraid to finish…but when I saw him lying there…I knew I had to finish. Not for me…not for anyone…except for…Jacques Snicket…" My voice broke as I spoke his name aloud and stared down at my hands. "Olaf made me swear not to tell anyone. It was not his threats that stopped me from confessing…it was my guilt."

Monty patted the top of my head. "You're not the one who should be sorry," he said, "I should've warned him not to go wandering into that village."

"Don't you see?" I said. "I'm a terrible person. I could never forgive myself for what I've done. How can I? I joined Olaf and then I aimed that gun at poor Dewey Denouement. I was going to kill him! Me! Maybe I didn't pull the trigger, but that doesn't mean I'm not responsible for his death."

"Did you?" Monty asked.

I shook my head, tears falling.

Monty touched my shoulder and I looked up at him. "You're not a terrible person, Jamie. You may have had moments when you almost did the wrong thing but you always have the will to stop. Most people don't."

Monty frowned. "I can't tell you that I know for sure," Monty said, "but revenge is a path that will only lead to more misery. You know I've had my share of villainy."

"When?" I asked.

"I learned that Olaf suggested that his parents were murdered by poison darts," Monty said. "I may have been a part of that crime."

"You…were?" I said in shock. Though it might explain why Olaf hates Monty so much.

"So you see," Monty said, "even I have had my fair share of villainy. I'm not proud of it at all. Revenge did nothing for us, but bring us more misery. We took the easy way out when justice wasn't around. That's why I need your help building this case. Your friends need justice and only you can give them that."

"How can I?" I asked. "I'm just a kid. No one listens to children."

"Look at yourself," Monty said, "You've changed so much this year. You've faced tremendous hardships that no child should ever have to face. You're not a child anymore, Jane."

"But I am," I said, "I'm not cut out for this…for any of this! I only just turned eleven!"

"And yet you've survived," Monty said, "I know what happened to you was intolerable but you survived. Now it's your chance to get the justice you deserve. Don't let this opportunity go to waste."

"I-I just can't lose them," I whispered, and reached for his hand. "If I lose them again after all this time I spent trying to find them again…it would kill me."

"I know," Monty said, "but this is their only hope."

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	30. Disappear

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**Chapter Seventeen: Disappear**

For the next few days, Monty visited me in my hospital room. Sometimes we talked about the trial and I was told there were several trials happening before the one where we got to put forth our evidence. Other times we just talked about the hardships we faced after Hotel Denouement. Well, Monty did not like to talk too much about what he did, but I told him all about the islanders and Ishmael's hypocrisy. I told him, ashamed, how the Baudelaires and I had to go look for weapons for the mutiny. I explained that we had gotten side tracked by Ishmael's appearance and no weapons were brought to the mutineers. I told him how Ishmael shot Olaf with the harpoon gun and that I had used my magic powers to make it stop. I explained how the Medusoid Mycelium was released anyways and we were all in grave danger. I even told him about my dream where I saw my parents and how we delivered Kit's baby by ourselves.

One of the days that he came to talk. I was well enough to be able to walk without fainting and the doctors encouraged me to get some exercise. Monty went with me, walking around the Ward. It wasn't that exciting, but it was better than being stuck in that hospital room for endless hours. I hated feeling like I was powerless, especially at a time like this. Walking made me feel like I was doing something and it calmed me down whenever I began to freak out about the Baudelaires.

"Your aunt Renée has arrived at the hospital and she is very anxious to see you," Monty said as we rounded a corner. "Would you like to meet her?"

I stopped, in surprise. Ever since Esmé mentioned Renée to me, she had always seemed like this dream-like figure that I was never really sure existed. Knowing that she was here and in this very same hospital made me feel both apprehensive and curious. I didn't really know Renée. All I knew was that she was my mother's sister and that she had magic powers like me. I wanted to meet her so badly, of course, because she was my family and I've been waiting my whole life for someone to come find me. But it was a little unnerving too. I had already met one of my mother's sisters, Esmé, and she ended up walking away from me. What if Renée was just as vindictive and cruel as Esmé? But that didn't stop my curiosity. I wanted to meet her at last. I wanted to finally put a face to her name.

"Okay," I said, uncertainly.

Monty nodded and we walked out to where there was a mini waiting room for this ward. Monty had me sit down in one of the empty chairs while he contacted Renée to let her know where we were.

He sat down beside me after a moment, saying that she was on her way up. I watched the elevators anxiously, wondering if I should be excited or nervous. What would she think of me? Would she like me? Or would she cast me aside as quickly as Esmé had?

"What is Renée like?" I asked Monty Kensicle.

He smiled a bit. "You'll have to wait to find out, Jane," he said. "But I know you'll like her."

I was so anxious that I couldn't sit down anymore and began to pace in endless circles.

Almost immediately, the elevator doors opened. Several people were on it and they began to go their separate ways. A tall woman walked off the elevator behind them all and looked from side to side, until she saw Monty Kensicle. Monty had risen to his feet by then and exchanged a smile with the woman as if they were old friends who hadn't seen each other in years. I stared at the woman. Her wavy, auburn hair surrounded her smooth face, and stopped just at her collarbone. Her hazel eyes were flecked with bits of green and she wore a timid but friendly smile. I was surprised at how young she looked. She seemed to be at least in her late twenties. The woman didn't seem very frightening, but I knew how deceptive appearances could be. The instant I realized it was my Aunt Renée, I started for the door, opposite the direction that she was facing, not sure if I should make a run for it or not.

She hurried over to Monty.

"Oh my, I haven't seen you in years," Renée said and they exchanged a brief hug. "How are you?"

"I'm all right," Monty said.

"That's good," Renée said, and she began to look around again. "I came as soon as I heard. Is she here?"

Monty didn't have to speak; he just turned his head in my direction. The woman followed his gaze and her eyes rested on me. Her hazel eyes softened as we gazed at each other. She looked at me as if she knew me, but I didn't remember her at all.

The woman muttered something to herself and took a shaky breath. I realized that her eyes were glazing with tears.

"Oh, my dear," she said, stepping towards me. "…Jamie. I-I haven't seen you since you were a baby. Look at you…Abigail looked so much like you. Oh, sweetheart." She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, crouching down so that we were level with each other. "You probably don't remember me. I'm Renée…your aunt."

She kept her arms around my shoulders. She had a nice scent like lavender. My hands were at my sides, uncertain of what to do. Renée pulled away and tears streaked down her face.

"I'm so sorry about what has happened to you," my aunt Renée said. "But I promise you that I will do whatever I can to help you."

"The only way you can help me is by helping the Baudelaires," I said, stepping back. "But as far as I can tell, it's hopeless."

Renée stared at me for a second, and I could see she was hurt slightly.

"Well, don't give up hope," she said, "I didn't give up on you and now here you are."

"It was nice meeting you," I said, "but I'm very tired. I'm going to go back to my hospital room."

I glanced at Renée once more and then, turned to leave for the hall. When I was on the other side, I paused and listened at the door.

"Oh, don't worry, Renée," I heard Monty whispering to her. "She's just upset about her friends. Just be patient and I know she'll see that she can trust you." I could hear her beginning to sniffle a bit as if she were crying. I guess I was a little harsh, but I barely knew her. Why was it that everyone kept showing up now? Where were they when I spent all these years wondering where my family was? I couldn't allow myself to get to know her. It was easier not to know her when I knew she would eventually abandon me too.

Renée continued to visit the hospital every day, even when I refused to see her, which was most of the time. Monty tried to persuade me to give her a chance, but then I would remind him how giving people chances to get into my head is what got me here in the first place.

"I can't do this anymore," I said, "I can't keep letting people get into my head. All they do is mess it around and then, abandon you. I'm sure you can relate."

"Renée isn't going to hurt you," Monty said. "She's a good person."

"Maybe," I said. "Maybe she won't intentionally hurt me, but don't you get it? I'm a magnet for misery. Anyone that comes into my path ends up dying or put in jail or they have to leave for some reason or another. Esmé didn't think twice before she stamped on my heart and turned her back on me the moment I needed her. How can you expect me to put my heart in _her_ hands? A stranger. You know as well as I do how easy it is for people you care about to hurt you, whether they mean to or not. I knew your brother for just a few hours and…look what happened…"

Monty's eyes flickered to his shoes, and he was blinking a lot as if to hold back tears. I didn't mean to open his wounds.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but it's the truth."

He nodded. "I do see your point," he said, "but don't let what happened to you control your decisions."

"But that's just it," I said, "it's my decision whether I want her in my life. I don't want to be told that what I'm doing is wrong or any of that. I spent this past year of my life not being able to make decisions that were entirely my own. So please, just let me be."

Monty sighed. "Alright," he said, "but Renée wanted to take you out for lunch and try to talk to you. I know how you feel, however, if you agree to meet with her and you still don't want anything to do with her, then I will not bother you again. I just hate to see you throw away this opportunity."

I sighed. "I guess I can give it a try," I said. "And you promise you won't bug me no matter my choice?"

"The choice is yours solely," Monty said, his voice firm as he looked me in the eyes. "I would hate to be the one to take that away from you."

"It can't hurt to just go to lunch," I said and began to climb out of my bed. "Besides," I grimaced. "I hate being trapped in here, feeling useless."

* * *

I changed into some clothes that Renée had bought for me: a crisp blue tank top and a pair of white denim shorts. I wouldn't have worn an outfit picked out by her, but I didn't have any clothes of my own so I had to settle. Already, I felt uncomfortable and when I met Renée in the waiting room, I barely said a word.

"Thank you," I mumbled, "for the clothes."

"You don't need to thank me," Renée said, "you're my responsibility and I'll do whatever I can to take care of you."

We were silent again as we exited the elevator into the lobby.

"You must be feeling cramped in that room all of the time," she said after a moment, as we walked out of the front doors of the hospital.

"Yes," I said, glancing briefly at her. I realized that it really had been a long time since I went outside and I had to squint in the bright sunlight. The sky was touched with just the right amount of blue and we walked along the white strips of sidewalk. The streets were busy and we weaved our way through.

"Where would you like to go for lunch?" she asked. "There's a little pizza place on the corner. If not, there are plenty of other choices."

"Pizza is fine," I said and we crossed the street, walking towards a small brick building with a sign that read Tony's Pizzeria.

Renée grasped the metal handle and pulled sharply, holding the door open for me to enter ahead of her, and I muttered a quick thank you as I moved past her.

"Why don't you grab a table and I'll order our food?" Renée suggested, "What would you like?"

I told her I would like a cheese slice and a bottled water. I found a booth near the back. It was big enough for four people and all I could think about was how I was missing four very important people. I'd begun to lose hope this past week, not that I had much from the start. Monty didn't tell me much about what was happening but he said that when the time came, we would present our evidence in front of a jury. But as each day passed, and no jury session came, I began to think he was keeping the truth from me. The Baudelaires may never come back. They'll be in jail for life.

Renée came back with the pizza and our drinks. She sat down across from me.

"Thanks again," I said, quietly, picking up the slice of hot pizza.

Renée nodded. "It's the least I could do," she said. "You've been through quite an ordeal. I can't imagine how terrible you must be feeling. I wish there was something I could do to help your friends."

I was silent, staring blankly down at the table. "Me too," I said, sadly.

"There's another reason why I took you out to lunch," Renée said. "See, I contacted Mr. Poe and he suggested that you be placed in my care. It's not official yet, but when you are released from the hospital then, I'm going to bring you to my place. Of course, if you don't want this then…well..."

My eyebrows furrowed at her and I put down the pizza slice. "I…I don't…"

"I know this is strange for you," Renée said. "We've only just met and and now you're going to be living with me. But I want to be there for you, Jamie. I'm afraid if I let you go again then, someone else will try to hurt you. I can protect you."

"How?" I asked. "How can you protect me from Count Olaf?"

Renée leaned forward and whispered, "With magic," she explained. "Count Olaf may have some knowledge about the magical world, but he can't get it. I can use it to make sure that you never have to worry about him again."

"What about my friends?" I said, "how are you going to protect them with magic? Unless you are planning on hypnotizing the jury members or something."

Renée nodded. "I can't save them with magic," she admitted. "But my dear friend Rick works in law. He offered to help your friends."

"Why do you care about me?" I asked. "We don't even know each other."

"We're family, Jamie," Renée said, "and even though we've been kept apart all of these years, you have always been in my heart. I loved Abigail very much and the day she died, I felt as if she had taken me with her."

"If you cared about me, then, why did it take so long for you to come and find me?" I said. "Didn't my parents tell anyone about their secret?"

Renée sighed. "I knew your parents were planning something," Renée said. "They kept talking about dangerous enemies threatening their lives. They wanted to protect you in case…well in case they perished. I remember your mother had told me about making a fake passport and identity for you. So I knew when your parents went missing, that you had to be somewhere. But it was hard to find you when I didn't know the false name you received. However, you have to trust that your parents did this to protect you from dangerous people like Count Olaf."

"And the man with a beard but no hair?" I said.

Renée shuddered. "Yes, from him as well," she said, "and his partner, that horrible woman."

"Well, their plan didn't work out well," I said.

Renée looked concerned. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Mrs. Marshall became the headmistress a few years after I was left at my boarding school," I said, "But Mrs. Marshall was really the woman with hair but no beard. She tried to kill me numerous times."

Renée gasped. "Oh, Jamie," she said, "I'm terribly sorry."

"The only reason I survived," I said, "was because of my magic."

Renée nodded. "Magic is very powerful," she said.

"It's protected me from the beginning," I said. "Even when I didn't ask for it. At least I have something I can rely on. Myself." I looked down at the table and picked at my pizza slice.

Renée blinked and then frowned. She reached across the table and took my hand in hers. I peered up at her. She had a pleasant face, making it difficult to hate her.

"Jamie," she said, firmly as she gazed at me, her eyes grim. "You are my niece. Maybe I haven't been there before, but I'm here now. I promise you that I will do everything possible to protect you and your friends from harm. I hope we can make up for the time we lost. But you have to trust me."

I stared at her and part of me wanted to believe her, but I couldn't take that risk. I tore my hand from her grasp and stood up.

"Trust?" I said, feeling tears in my eyes. "I don't think it's your position to teach me about trust. Every time I trust someone, they use it to hurt me. I can't let that happen to me again. I just…I can't. The only people I truly trust are the Baudelaires and even we have had problems." I turned and stormed out of the pizzeria, into the busy street.

"Jamie, please," Renée said, coming up behind me, and I could see that I had hurt her.

I turned to her. "Maybe I don't need you here," I snapped, "I don't need your help. I don't need magic. What I need are my friends back."

"You may think that you don't need me," Renée said, "but I swore to your mother the day you were born that I would take care of you. I'm not going to give up. I waited eleven years to see you again and there's no way I'm walking away from you now, whether you like it or not."

I gave her a hard stare but after a moment, it faded away and I sighed. "Fine," I said, "you can help me, but I that doesn't mean I trust you. I know you're going to fail me like everyone else I know has."

* * *

I didn't tell Monty about our argument. I knew he was just going to try to tell me that I was making a mistake or something. I don't know if I was making a mistake, but I did know that no matter how nice Renée seemed, I couldn't let her in. I was better off on my own. No one could hurt me if they never got the chance to.

Renée's friend Rick arrived. The adults began discussing the legal matters while I sat in the waiting room, trying to keep myself together. Every day I spent without the Baudelaires, the more hope faded away.

"Jamie," Monty said to me afterwards, "on the day of the trial, witnesses are going to be allowed to testify. If you would like, you can choose to speak for your friends."

"I can't speak," I said, "if I tell them everything, then they'll still go to jail."

"You don't know that," Monty said, "they may be a little more lenient for you if they knew the full story. Also, the Baudelaires are underaged which means they have less of a chance of being sent to prison. You can help them if you speak. No one knows the story better than you."

"You know as well as I do that no one can ever know the full story," I said, "and I don't want their fate to rest in my hands. If it doesn't work then, I'll only have myself to blame."

Monty put a hand on my shoulder. "Please, Jamie," he said, "all they need to hear is the truth. I used to think running could solve my problems, but then I encountered you children. You taught me that the only way to defeat evil is to not let it control you. You're strong enough to do this now. You're not a child anymore, remember that."

I continued to frown, but then, I nodded. I knew he was right, but it still terrified me.

* * *

The next day, Renée asked me to come stay with her until the trial came. I was going to refuse when Monty began talking about making choices that I'll regret. I agreed, not because I wanted to, but because I did somewhat trust Monty enough to listen to his advice.

She took me to the hotel she was staying at for the moment. I didn't speak much. I was still considering what Monty said to me about testifying. Rick spoke to me about how it works and reassured me that it would work. I stayed at her place for a few days, while we prepared.

On the day before the trial, Renée and I returned to the hotel room after dinner.

"I have to go out," Renée said, "I'm sorry to leave you, but I must meet with Rick and Monty to discuss tomorrow's hearing. I promise it won't take long."

I nodded. "Go ahead," I said, sitting on my bed.

Renée stepped forward slowly, and then, she bent down so she was level with me. Her soft hands reached out to take my face in her hands. Part of me wanted to pull away, but the other part of me was curious to see what she was going to say.

"We're going to rescue your friends, Jamie," she said, "They won't go to jail so long as Rick is on the case. And then when they're free, I'll take all of you to London." She smiled. "You'll go to Hogwarts, and I promise you, you'll never want to leave. Just wait and see. There's a brighter horizon for all of you. We just need to fight for it." Renée leaned forward and kissed me on my forehead. "I love you, Jamie," she said, "No matter what you think of me right now. Now, stay strong."

I stared at her, tears flooding my eyes. Besides my parents, no one had ever said those three words to me, at least, as far as I can remember.

A tear rolled down my cheek and I smiled. It was the first time I smiled since I was with the Baudelaires. I knew Renée understood how significant it was because she smiled back at me. Maybe I couldn't trust her completely, but I felt like I might be able to in the future.

"Thank you," I said.

"You don't need to thank me," she said, "for caring about you."

"I'll be back soon," Renée promised and straightened. She patted my head and I watched her leave the hotel room.

I sat back on the bed and picked up one of the books Renée had bought for me. It was Native Son by Richard Wright. Ever since Klaus found the book's unfathomable question, it sparked my curiosity. It was hard to read, when Klaus wasn't here to help me with all the complicated words. I missed him so much and instead of reading, I ended up using the book to hide my tears.

It was then that I heard a long, loud screech.

I looked up and realized the sound had come from the living room connected to the bedroom. Quietly, I got off of the bed and inched my way along the wall until I reached the door. I peered into the other room and was horrified when I saw the lean, towering figure of Count Olaf. My blood ran cold and the book fell from my hands. I looked around the room, trying to figure out what to do. I would have to go through the room Olaf was in to escape. My other option was the window. I had no idea how Olaf managed to get up here, but there was no way I would be able to get down. There was only one option.

I hurried over to the bathroom, closing the door as quickly, but as quietly as I could. That still didn't prevent it from making a click as I locked it.

"Hello?" Olaf called, in a mocking voice. "Is that you Jamie?"

I bit my lip and froze in place. I could hear his footsteps as he entered the bedroom.

"A book?" Olaf said and I knew he had discovered the abandoned copy of _Native Son_. "That could only mean one thing, since bookworm is locked away with the other Baudebrats."

I was shaking in fear and it took all my strength to keep from screaming.

"Come on out, Jamie," he said, "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to have a little chat about tomorrow."

The doorknob shook and I knew Olaf was on the other side. Quickly, I scrambled toward the bathtub. I sat inside and closed the curtains around it.

"I'm going to confess," Olaf said, "I want you to know."

I knew that was as fake as Olaf saying that he had no interest in my fortune anymore.

"You could come out now," Olaf said, "Or if you'd like, we could wait until your dear aunt Renée returns. I've been waiting a long time to have a word with her about meddling with my plans. Your new family member might receive the same fate as poor Jacques Snicket."

Despair filled me because I knew I would open the door any moment now. Quickly, I rose to my feet, my legs wobbly as I stepped out of the tub and made my way to the counter. I searched the contents of the drawers for a weapon. I found a pair of small scissors. I knew I couldn't take him, but at least I might be able to hold him off long enough to run. I laid a hand on the knob and stared at it for a moment. Then, I pushed away all of my hopes and dreams, and opened the door to a pair of familiar shiny eyes.

His mouth curved into a wicked grin as he looked down at me.

"Excellent," he said, and backed up a bit so I could step out of the bathroom. I kept the scissors hidden in my back pocket. "I knew you'd come. You're mine now. The Baudelaires think that their little friend's testimony will save them tomorrow and I admit that you have a lot to say about what you witnessed. But it won't do a thing if you can't speak. Becoming mute at a time like this won't help save them. Though you could help _me_ by refusing to speak."

As he spoke, I began to think of way I could just get past him. Then, I might be able to make a run for the door. If I could get out in the hall, someone was bound to be there to help me.

"That's not going to happen," I said, quietly. "I'll try to be brave for them."

"That's where you're wrong, orphan," Olaf said, "I've had the greatest idea so I won't have to go to jail."

I quietly began to take a few steps to the side, trying not to let Olaf notice.

"You see," Olaf said, "while you were busy reading stupid books and bonding with your aunt, I was scheming a way to get myself out of jail. I want you to not say a thing tomorrow to prove their innocence. You can, however, say anything you'd like to about the terrible things they've done."

"We're not trying to plead innocent," I said with a scowl, "we're only telling the truth."

"The truth? Your friends did some terrible things," Olaf said, and stepped toward me, forcing me backwards so I was cornered, "they'll go to jail when they find out that they helped me burn down that carnival, not to mention Hotel Denouement." His eyes flashed and he gave me a wicked grin.

"Maybe if they understood why," I said, "They might lessen the punishment. Besides, they're only kids. No one will believe any of them are murderers when they hear our story."

"It's a shame that no one _will _hear your story," Olaf said.

"Stop it!" I said, grabbing the scissors and preparing to strike, "I'm going to speak for them and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"Oh, but there is," Olaf said, "you should know by now that I always have a backup plan." He began to grab me.

"No!" I cried and jammed the scissors into his hand. I pushed him aside and began to run for it.

"Get back here this instant!" Olaf growled, grunting as he pulled out the scissors. He began to pursue me. I didn't dare glance back and check how much damage I did. I was busy running for my life. I ran into the living room. The couch was in my path and I climbed over top of it instead of wasting time going around. However, I stumbled as my feet touched the ground and landed awkwardly on my foot. A searing pain burst from my ankle but I kept going. I had to get to the door. I was so close.

I reached it and my hands reached for the doorknob. I pulled it open and started to sprint out into the hall. As I did, I found myself ram right into someone. I looked up and was relieved to see a man dressed in a police uniform.

"Oh thank goodness," I cried, "Count Olaf escaped from where he was being held until the trial. He's…" I turned to see Olaf standing right behind me and sharing a wicked grin with the police officer before me.

"I know," the policeman said, "I'm the one who helped him escape."

My blood ran cold. "No," I cried and tried to run past the police officer, but he grabbed my arm and Olaf grabbed my other arm. "Let go of me!"

They dragged me back inside the hotel room as I tried to kick and scream. Olaf put a hand over my mouth to silence me as they pinned me against the couch.

"You may have escaped from my clutches," Olaf said, "but that will never happen again. You're going to come with me and I'm going to become a very rich man. Soon two Baudelaires will be found dead in their cells but one will get to come with us. In no time I'll have one of each. One Baudelaire. One Quagmire. One Widdershin. One Sampson. One Murray." I looked at him in confusion. His eyes widened and his grin widened. "Oh, wait a second. You don't know about what happened. I suppose your so-called aunt neglected to tell you that your puny little friends escaped death, which is lucky for me." He chuckled. "I may have lost my recruits but I'll find more eventually. You can escape from me as many times as you can. But I'll always come back to claim what belongs to me."

"You'll never get our fortunes," I cried, in a final attempt to sound brave.

Olaf grinned. "Tomorrow, the court will be waiting on the testimony of a young girl to set her friends free," Olaf said, "But what will the Baudelaires do when the one person who knows everything that happened to them and more doesn't show?"

Count Olaf's eyes shone brightly as he reached into his pocket. He withdrew a needle filled with a clear substance. I trembled so much that I didn't think I would ever stop.

"Please!" I cried. "Don't!" I felt tears streaming down my face. I began to tremble uncontrollably. I knew all too well what that needle reminded me of.

Olaf laughed cruelly. "Have a nice night," he said as he plunged the needle into the padded part of my forearm. I screamed as my vision began to cloud. My legs grew tired of kicking and fell back to the couch.

Suddenly, the hotel room faded away and all I could make out was darkness. My last thoughts before I slipped into unconsciousness were of Count Olaf plunging a similar needle into Jacques Snicket.

* * *

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